


The Ballad of the Wolves

by Noralesong



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Action & Romance, Aerys II Targaryen is Not a Mad King, Arranged Marriage, BAMF Olenna Tyrell, Blood and Gore, Dark Fantasy, Deception, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Female Friendship, Good Robert Baratheon, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Love, Love Triangles, Lyanna Stark Lives, Major Original Character(s), Minor Robert Baratheon/Lyanna Stark, POV Female Character, POV Lyanna Stark, POV Ned Stark, POV Original Character, POV Third Person, Past Rape/Non-con, Political Alliances, Politics, Pre-A Game of Thrones, Protective Ned Stark, Rape Recovery, Rhaegar Targaryen Being an Asshole, Rhaegar Targaryen Being an Idiot, Romance, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Strong Female Characters, Subterfuge, Swordfighting, Tourney at Harrenhal, War, Warg Starks (ASoIaF), lying, non Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:40:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27387328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noralesong/pseuds/Noralesong
Summary: Jon Arryn's first daughter survived and became a ward of the Tyrells. Her existence causes ripples in the timeline, altering the original story as she is set to marry Edward Stark.*Altered timeline and outcomes**Clever Ned*
Relationships: Ned Stark/Original Female Character(s), Rhaegar - Relationship, Robert Baratheon/Lyanna Stark
Comments: 17
Kudos: 82





	1. Prologue

Clutched in his hands was a letter written on vellum so colored it almost appeared gold. His breath caught in the back of his throat and he recalled the sweet song of his first wife. He'd loved Jeyne Royce dearly, though she had been a bit young for him. She was a strong woman, it only pained him that her life was snuffed out bringing forth a child. A child whose name was contained in this letter. Jon had sent the girl away, she was a throbbing reminder and a child that could never be his heir. He had also thought that his second wife wouldn't be keen on raising the child of a dead woman. However, it'd served him well that Rowena had also passed away recently. Jon had replaced his daughter with the sons of those he sought alliances with and for a time, her name had slipped to recesses of his mind, a convenient coverup to have the sons he had always wanted.

_'Lord Arryn,_

_Your daughter has done wonderfully in our company over the course of the years. She's blossomed in a lovely flower, which many enjoy spending their time in the company of. As the winter wanes, I suspect the wind the mountains abate well enough for this flower to return. Even if we cultivate her to be a flower, she shall always have the ferocity of a falcon. Janna and Mina will miss her terribly, but the arrangement between my eldest, Mace and Elyse, seems as if it were not meant to be. We shall be sending Lady Elyse back to the Vale in the company of Tyrell knights. This raven shall arrive well ahead, hopefully giving proper preparations for your own knights to meet us at the Tourney in Harrenhal, which the Tyrells shall be attending._

_Regards,_   
_Lady Olenna Tyrell'_

One day it would happen, Jon had been fully aware that his hope of marrying Elyse to Mace was just that; a hope. Just as boys would be sent to squire or be wards with other families to forge an alliance, Jon had sent Elyse to Highgarden to be among girls of a similar age. What did Jon know of raising a daughter? The girl had been only 5 when he had sent her across Westeros to be raised by strangers, with the plan that she'd bond with Mace and stay there permanently.

 _But she shall always have the ferocity of a falcon?_ Jon repeated, scanning over the Queen of Thorns' message again. He wondered if the girl had a bit of a tongue on her, just like the woman who had raised her. Perhaps sending her there so young had worked against him, as Mace could only see the girl as a sister. _Either way, I've to meet them in Harrenhal..._ he thought, glancing down at his desk, pawing through the letters he had received in recent days. He delicately plucked up a more modest piece of parchment with a broken wax seal, the silver hue belonging to the dire wolf of the Starks. _The Starks are headed there. It would not be too much to ask for them to retrieve her and then deliver her to the Vale_ , he thought suddenly, a plan blossoming swiftly.

He was about to have a new wife, one that would be younger than his own daughter, perhaps it was best that Jon found a more permanent solution for his daughter.

Sitting down, he uncorked his inkwell and blotted water in it before stirring the dried pigment. On his own vellum, a pale milky white, he began to write to Rickard Stark, inquiring about the retrieval of his daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor edits to match current content. Thanks for reading!


	2. Eddard I

It was supposed to be the most impressive castle in all of Westeros had dragons not melted the stone and rendered much of the castle incapable of use. In spite of this, Ned still found the enormous structure impressive. It spanned thrice the grounds of Winterfell, which he had only recently been acquainted with following his stay in the Vale. On the north shore the Gods Eye, the castle had an impressive wall and the tallest towers twisted their malformed shapes toward the sky. He had gone on a ride with his brother early in the morning to take a look at how beautiful and haunting Harrenhal was. Lord Whent opened his coffers to host a tourney on the grounds, but only a small part of the castle was habited as most of the monolithic towers were beyond repair as dragon fire had melted and malformed the structures beyond repair. 

There were some redeeming qualities, as Lord Whent was wealthy and did take care of the parts of the castle that were accessible. He had been impressed by the Hall of the Hundred Hearths, which was large enough to entertain an army, two galleries looking down on the rest of the slate floored hall. Now the Flowstone Yard laid host to the tourney, an entire stadium erected of wood around the pitch for sword fighting, archery, and jousting. There had been few tourneys of its girth and like, meaning that most of Westeros and its nobility was in attendance to meet for this grandiose display of wealth and enjoyment. Harrenhal, even if uninhabitable in most parts, was the only castle large enough to host such a spectacular event.

But Eddard's mind was not only clouded with the bets of which knight may win or the excitement for what he may watch. In fact, as many enjoyed this spectacle, Ned thought it was an exuberant waste of money that could have been used on better resources. Harrenhal wasn't _that_ far south, but it was enough that the idea of pissing coins away wasn't so shunned. He expected that the money it took to run this tourney was what it would cost to run Winterfell for more than a decade. No, that wasn't in the forefront of his mind, rather it was the conversation he had with his father before coming to the tourney.

"I've a letter from Jon Arryn," Rickard had waved the pale vellum in his hand, standing in his solar, his brows heavy and brooding. He was an imposing, tall man with a stern expression, a full beard, and long brown hair. It was odd to think of him as a father, as Jon Arryn had filled that space for so many years, but Eddard still respected and thought highly of his own father. Rickard and Jon Arryn were alike, but also so different. "Do you recall his daughter? You must have met her at least once during your stay in the Vale."

Eddard did not and had not. Jon Arryn had never made much mention of his daughter, though he and Robert had been aware she existed. They'd thought it strange that she never came to visit and believed it had something to do with her not wishing to be there. He had nodded to his father, suspecting where this went immediately.

"She is Lady Elyse and shall be traveling with the Tyrells to the tourney in Harrenhal. Originally, Lady Elyse was intended to marry Mace Tyrell, but the plans did not pan out. Instead, Mace has married Lady Alerie Hightower, and so Lady Elyse is returning home. Jon Arryn shall not be at the tourney and has requested that we either return Lady Elyse to the Eyrie or... I have suggested that she come to Winterfell for a time," Rickard explained, placing the letter down and staring openly at his son. "Lord Arryn is to remarry, however, he is uncertain if he will gain an heir. In which case, Lady Elyse is heir to the Vale until she marries. Lord Arryn states that he will put aside this marriage and give you the rights to the Vale, as you were raised as his son."

Eddard's mouth had gone dry, his palms sweaty at the thought of becoming the Warden of the East and the Lord of the Vale. He didn't want it. He had never wanted to be a lord. His brother Brandon was always destined for this. While the Starks were allies with the Arryns, he could see in his father's eyes the importance of doing this. Once Jon Arryn passed, the Starks would control the Vale, which bordered their lands, theoretically absorbing it into the North. New trade opportunities and networking could help rise prominence and gold income. As much as he didn't want any of it, he could not deny that he had loved the Vale and the people within it. It would be like returning to a lost home, since he had returned to Winterfell 3 years prior. And... it would become his by marriage. Most 2nd born sons would have drooled over such a prospect, especially since House Arryn was highly regarded and powerful. 

It was expected of him.

Eddard knew to do his duty, but he loathed it. He agreed with his father, knowing that he would not only be letting Rickard down, but also Jon. Jon trusted Ned to be kind to his daughter, but Ned worried that the woman would be a nightmare, given that she never wanted to visit her father in the years that he had stayed in the Vale. Thus, his arrival at the tourney only marked the countdown for when he would meet his betrothed. Brandon had done nothing to help him, filling Ned's ears with how florid and dramatic the southron women were. 

"I have little doubt she'll be comely, but living with the Tyrells most of her life? I can only imagine she'll be a nightmare and have exceptionally expensive tastes," Brandon told him after their morning ride to get a better look at Harrenhal. "Pretty flowers, with thorny tongues, but not much substance after that. But you will be made Warden of the East, so it's a fairer trade than any could hope for. Us together, ruling the North and East."

Ned pursed his lips at the thought, but did not discount his brother. Brandon was truly happy that Ned had been given such an opportunity, even if he did not feel the same as his brother. Dawn was still around them and as they rode in, his brother threw a haughty smile at him, gesticulating toward the verdant banners marked by golden roses; the Tyrells. 

"She should be around here somewhere, right?" Brandon grinned.

Ned frowned at his brother's exuberance, but did spare a glance in the direction of the Tyrell banners and the carriage houses that lolled to a stop. Perhaps she was within one of the ornately gaudy wheelhouses, though he did not care to find out. "I'll need to be presentable," he told his brother gruffly, gesturing down to their riding clothes which were simply a leather jerkin and trousers. "I should wear something a bit nicer..."

"Right, and fix that hair of yours," Brandon pointed out.

The Starks had brought a throng of their own guard, consisting of many other Northern houses that had been keen on seeing the tourney. The Umbers, the Karstarks, the Boltons, and the Mormonts had accompanied them down the Kingsroad. Rather than using the quarters, they had ceded and brought their large tents to create a small encampment of northerners just outside of the Harrenhal grounds. Of course, they did go inside the fortress for meals, but it was easier for them all to mill in their own little town away from the unfamiliar southrons. 

Benjen noticed them approaching and trotted up as they dismounted their horses. "Tullys arrived not too long ago," he told his eldest brother. 

"Wonderful, I'll freshen up too and go visit Catelyn," Brandon noted, giving an appreciative nod to Benjen. "What is Lyanna doing?"

"Oh well, uh... Maybe, Ned should go see her-" Benjen puttered, glancing dolefully over.

Immediately, he wondered if Lyanna was getting herself into trouble or perhaps practicing sword in the confines of the camp. Either way, from Benjen's behavior he suspected it was something that could get her in trouble. "I'll go," he agreed, but dumped the reins of his horse in Benjen's hands.

Lyanna had her own small tent, though she had made it large enough to share it with the Tully daughters, as they expected Catelyn would come visit them to see Brandon. Politely, Ned cleared his throat loudly, hearing murmuring voices inside of the tent, after a brief moment Lyanna was at the entrance. Surprisingly, she was not in riding clothes or a semblance of attire for sword practice. In fact, she hovered near the front of the door in a slightly suspicious manner.

"Is there someone with you?" Ned inquired, trying to get a look over her head. 

"No, not at all, just talking to myself," Lyanna answered swiftly, her blue eyes boring into his. 

"Sounded like a conversation," he suggested, but his lips curved up, as he knew his sister couldn't be up to more mischief than usual. "Benjen suggested I come see you."

"Ah, of course!" she dragged him into the tent. On the floor was a grey wolf rug, a set of chairs sitting around a small tea table. The bed was set further back, a quilt of grey, silver, and blue folded over slightly from where Lyanna had neglected to make it. There even appeared to be remnant smallclothes crumpled beside it. An ironwood chest sat at the foot, containing her dresses and other valuables, which was unlocked, a bolt of blue fabric sticking out.

Lyanna turned, holding his hand in hers. "So, Lady Elyse..." she drawled, a devilish brightness in her pale eyes, so stark against her long dark brown tresses. 

He sighed, turning his eyes away from his sister. She hadn't shown much excitement in the field of marriage before, even with Brandon, as she wasn't particularly fond of who she was betrothed to. Lyanna had made the point that even if Robert were infatuated with her, it would never keep him from straying from her bed. Growing up with the man indicated that this was right and upon numerous times, Robert had even tried to score Ned a night with women. "What of her?"

"I've heard some _things_ about her," Lyanna arched a brow at him, sweeping over gracefully to one of the seats. On the table was a tea kettle and two sets of cups.

He frowned, the tea was still hot, swirls of mist piping from the tea. "Whose is that?"

Lyanna looked down, the smug expression fluctuating for just a moment. "Oh, yours of course. I knew you'd be back soon."

"It looks half drunk," he pointed out.

"Only half full, here-" she picked up the kettle and poured some for him. 

Ned took a seat across from her, not completely convinced that this tea cup had been intended for him. Either way, he hadn't had breakfast yet, and picked up the cup, savoring the warmth it produced in the cool morning. Winter had all but faded, murmurs of the impending summer following the bout of warm weather. Still, mornings had a chill to them, the spring not yet chasing away winter's frost.

The flavor was mild and floral, gentle rosehips and lavender. It was not entirely unpleasant, but not the sharp, bitter flavor he was accustomed to. Tea was not a typical commodity in the North, as most of it was imported to Westeros. "Where did you get this?"

"Around. You know there are plenty of southrons here that have tea. It was a favor from a lady I met last night," Lyanna answered, enjoying her own cup which had almost been drained. "But, as I was saying before, _Lady Elyse_..." she gauged her brother's reaction before continuing. "She seems very interesting. I expect Brandon has been filling your ears with hogwash-"

"And your rumors are any more true than his own speculations?" Ned inquired, this time the one arching a brow. He set his tea cup down with a soft clatter. "I will do my duty, regardless of what kind of person Lady Elyse is."

Lyanna's nose pinched as she scowled at him and poured herself more tea. "I am quite aware, but don't you hope that you're compatible with her? Or that maybe you'll fall in love with her?"

"Of course I hope that, but it doesn't really matter, does it?"

"Uhg," Lyanna stood up, placing her hands on the back of her chair, stretching her shoulders. " _Well_ , from what _I've_ heard, she seems like a very exciting person. Did you know the reason Mace Tyrell didn't want to marry her is because he was scared of her?"

That did interest Ned, he glanced up from his cup of tea and stared at his sister for a long moment. "Why?"

"Something about a hunting trip... Lady Elyse had insisted on joining the party, it was a stag hunt. Only, they weren't the only hunters on the grounds, as a shadowcat had ventured down the Mander from the mountains. Upon seeing it, Mace Tyrell was said to have turned the party around at a gallop; which, obviously, was a poor choice as you never show your back to a shadowcat. It leapt and dragged down Mace's horse by the rear, Lady Elyse fired an arrow, taking the cat in the shoulder. Mace was trapped beneath his horse as it fell under the shadowcat, which in spite of the arrow, had already set its eyes on its prey; the plump Mace Tyrell. It was said that Lady Elyse dismounted, took Mace Tyrell's sword, and drove the blade into its heart. The blood spurted out, coating both her and Mace. Supposedly, she had a look in her eyes that terrified Mace and he believed that one day it might be him on the receiving end of that sword. Lady Elyse was said to have skinned the shadowcat herself and made a cloak of it."

The excitement was keen in Lyanna's voice, the idea that there might be a lady who possessed some similarities with her, brightening her demeanor. 

"The tale is a bit... exorbitant."

Lyanna narrowed her eyes at him. "I doubt _all_ of it is true, as stories tend to be blown out of proportion, but if your betrothed saved you from a shadowcat, you'd think he'd be a bit more thankful."

"That depends all on what happened and what kind of wife Mace Tyrell wanted. Perhaps a coarse woman who can hold her own is not what he wished for, as many men in Westeros do not wish for-" he eyed his sister dubiously, hoping to drive a point. Still, he wondered if Lady Elyse had a shadowskin cloak that would indicate that she had been successful in her endeavor. At least, it might be a conversation starter if he could take anything away from what Lyanna had told him. 

"You mean a _boring_ wife," Lyanna rolled her eyes. "Ned, did you ever wonder why Lady Elyse never returned to the Vale?"

"I expected she did not wish to," he answered simply.

Lyanna snorted at him. "Or maybe _Lord Arryn_ didn't wish for his daughter to be around him."

He felt his temper bristle at this, but Ned had always been better at controlling it than his sister and elder brother. Drawing a steady breath, he leveled his eyes at her. "Lord Arryn has suffered the misfortune of two wives passed and only one child surviving to adulthood. I doubt he would send his daughter away."

Lyanna cocked an arrogant smirk at him and shrugged. "Fine, I know you are loyal to Lord Arryn considering he raised you, but no one is perfect. Remember that... but I for one, am quite excited to become acquainted with your betrothed. From the words I've heard, she seems to be of the same feather as I."

"Gods forsake us all if there are two Lyanna Starks in Winterfell," Eddard groaned, but a smile tucked itself away on his face. There had been few things Lyanna was looking forward to, especially because the years until she wed were waning. Even if Ned didn't love his betrothed, at least Lyanna would have a friend who understood her. 

"I shouldn't keep you. You really should freshen up and seek her out. I want to meet her officially!" Lyanna declared. "She'll sit with us for the tourney, no?"

"If she would prefer to, but she may feel more comfortable amongst the Tyrells," he reminded her simply. Finishing the tea he had been poured, he stood up and gave his sister a final look as he approached the entrance of the tent. "I rather hope Lady Elyse is how you describe rather than Brandon."

"We can place bets if you'd like," Lyanna offered mischievously.

"Confer with Brandon, I shall take no parts in bets over the disposition of my betrothed," Ned declined, leaving his sister on her own, wandering over toward his tent. 

What would she be like? The droll, political southron who only cared about material things or a woman who wanted to be a man? Either one came with their own problems and issues, but for Lyanna's sake he truly hoped for the latter. 

Inside the comfort of his own plain, neatly arranged tent, Eddard changed from his riding gear, washed quickly in a water basin, and replaced his attire with the typical northerner finery; a silver grey doublet with muted designs, dark trousers tucked into black leather boots, a sword belt, and a wolf pelt cloak. He fussed with his hair for a few moments in the mirror, thinking back to what his brother had said, wondering if it was still as messy as he thought.

"Pardon," a voice called from the front of the tent.

Deciding his hair would have to do for now, Eddard withdrew to the front of the tent to see who was standing there. A steward in the green and gold of House Tyrell stood before him, a sinewy man in an intricate doublet that put Ned's to shame, and gave the Northerner a rather impudent look, as if judging Ned by appearance alone. 

"Greetings, my lord," the steward gave a polite, albeit stiff incline of his head, a hand upon his breast as he did so. "Lady Elyse has sent word that she is preparing to meet you. House Tyrell has settled not too far from here."

Ned nodded silently, following the steward away from the familiarity of the Northern banners and men. Rather than approaching Harrenhal's main gate, they instead circled around the mountainous walls where banners of golden roses flew, a large entourage of other houses dotting the landscape like a garden of southerners. Tents were still being erected and furniture lugged into the most marvelous tents. 

He did not have to wonder long which among the crowd belonged to his betrothed, as the steward paused in front of an average sized tent made with pale blue tarp. Among the throng of gaily colored tents, was the falcon moon of House Arryn, a lone soldier. 

What Ned saw next was probably the queerest thing he'd seen a steward do before. Pausing in front of the tent's entrance, the steward grabbed the hem of his doublet, slicked back his hair, and fixed the brooch upon his breast. He snapped up like a soldier to attention and announced himself to Elyse Arryn as if reporting to the commander of an army. 

Fleeting seconds passed before the tent flap fluttered like the wings of a bird and a young woman stepped out. The steward stepped aside, ogling her with reverence, if not infatuation. 

Standing before him was a slender lady with a narrow waist. She was drawn up in the Arryn colors, a pale blue dress that complimented her fair skin and long, loosely curled light brown hair. She had a gentle face, soft eyes as blue as her father's, and full pink lips that pouted naturally. In a moment, Eddard had forgotten his doubts and worry, as he stared into the eyes of a pretty face. 

"A pleasure to meet you finally," Elyse greeted, giving him a delicately curtsy.

Having forgotten himself, Eddard forced a restrained smile, trying not to play the part of bumbling Northerner. He took her hand respectfully, which was small, but rough in his own palm. "The pleasure is all mine, my lady," he pressed her hand to his lips, as Brandon had drilled him on the night prior. 

Elyse returned a delicate smile that did not reveal her teeth, her eyes sharp and perceptive, again like her father. He released her hand and she drew it toward her. "I am eager to become acquainted with you. My father thinks of you as a son, does he not?"

"I would believe so, given the years I spent in his care in the Vale. Perhaps just as Lady Tyrell thinks of you as a daughter."

Elyse gave another, tightlipped smile. "Ah, yes, I see then. Please, we do not have to stay here, I'd rather prefer a walk since we've been riding for some days now."

Eddard offered her an arm and they started away from the encampment, though he wasn't particularly certain in which direction. Harrenhal did have a lot to offer, so wandering aimlessly to have a conversation wouldn't be that dry. 

"No troubles along the road, I hope?" he inquired, a poor attempt at continuing a meaningless conversation.

"Oh no, though a little may have been entertaining. I'm afraid our journey here was plagued by troubadours, minstrels, and copious amounts of wine," Elyse complained, noting true entertainment that most people would have enjoyed incessantly. 

"Not much for the arts, then?" he smirked, slightly amused.

"I am, but not when I've heard 10 different renditions of _The Rains of Castamere_ or some of the more bawdy songs like _The Bear and the Maiden Fair_. There are only so many times one can listen to those songs without reprieve before your appreciation for music is diluted. To be honest, I've been keen to get here and watch the tourney for a good change of pace."

"I must admit, I've never been fond of _The Rains of Castamere_ , it's such a mournful song," Ned confided.

"And yet everyone acts as if it's the best ballad. Personally, if we're staying true to the mournful theme, _The Dance of the Dragons_ is much better, though albeit longer and tedious to perform. I've only heard it done respectfully a few times while I was in King's Landing."

"I'm afraid I haven't had the luxury of hearing that before."

Elyse eyed him, but not in a disappointed or scathing manner, rather as if she regretted mentioning it. "If you're not fond of mournful songs, I wouldn't advise listening to the collection," she quickly backpedaled. 

"I wouldn't mind hearing it. Given how large this tourney is, I wouldn't doubt at least one troupe of singers would feature it, seeing that the royal family is also supposed to be in attendance," he told her, tucking away a small smile.

Elyse relaxed slightly. "What do you think of the tourney? The stadium and spectacularness of it all?"

"I think it cost a lot of coin," Eddard remarked honestly.

The young woman snorted, trying to mask a chuckle as she did. "You'd hate to see how money flows like water further south. Though I am quite astonished by the work that went into this. I've been to my fair share of tourneys, but none quite this... extravagant."

"I would hate it?" he repeated. "For someone who was raised far south, you do not seem very keen on it yourself."

Elyse gave a lazy shrug, pinning him with a look he knew from his sister. The mischief was bright in her sky blue eyes, but there was still the underlying perceptiveness that he was beginning to believe was an Arryn trait. "As someone who has gained an aversion to opulence by having an excessive amount shoved down their throat, yes, you are correct in your assumption. Are you surprised by this?"

Ned remained silent, wondering how he could phrase this honestly but politely. His lack of an answer immediately came back to bite him. 

"The Tyrells are a very esteemed family with nearly as much coin as the Lannisters. However, I was a ward, a guest, not a Tyrell myself. I was treated well and better clothed than most of Westeros, no doubt, but I did not inherit their wealth. I did get to bear witness to it, be it on a piece of impressive jewelry or a dress in the latest fashion. Have I wanted some of those things? I would be lying if I said no, there were times when I was jealous, but eventually I'd resolve to thinking that the coin could have been spent better otherwise. Eventually, I realized that coin may be able to buy the most beautiful objects, but it could not buy happiness."

"If you'll forgive me, I did not mean to offend you, it's just... There are certain rumors of southron ladies in comparison to Northerner ones," Eddard tried to explain.

Elyse nodded respectfully. "I have no doubt, just as there are rumors of Northmen being incredibly stoic and emotionless. Although, I don't find you to be half as bad of a walking companion as so many other lordlings preening their feathers to peacock in front of me. You're honest and polite, which is more than I can say of others."

Eddard chuckled at her, glad that they were talking, and that Elyse seemed to like him at that moment. She was not quite as bad as he had worried about, but he barely knew her. "I suppose peacocks would be rather boring for you when you bare a shadowskin cloak. Few dare to claim such a feat, especially a young lady, such as yourself, so far south."

"Ah, so you've heard the tale... Or at least an over glorified rendition of it," Elyse grimaced visibly before turning her eyes up toward him. "Which one did you hear? The one where I ripped its heart out after and ate it in front of Mace as he sobbed or the one where I shorn the head clean off with one swipe of the sword?"

"Neither quite so... macabre."

"Well, if you'd prefer to hear the true story, we could sit here and I could tell you," she gestured to their surroundings.

During their walk they had drawn up near the Godseye, away from the din of the camps surrounding the tourney stadium. Harrenhal was a behemoth shadow and they stood at its feet, by the stoney shore of the lake. 

* * *

_**Faceclaims for the characters** _

_**Eddard - Sam Claflin in Snow White and the Huntsman** _

_**Elyse - Natalie Portman in Attack of the Clones (given the blue eyes)** _

_**Lyanna - Hanna Mangan Lawrence in Spartacus Vengeance** _

_**Brandon - Eoin Macken in Merlin** _

_**Benjen - Max Irons in White Queen** _

_**Rickard - Clive Standen in The Vikings** _

_**Jon - Anthony Head in Merlin** _

  
  



	3. Eddard II

"Mace wasn't afraid of me following this scenario, neither is he afraid of me. I'd say more along the lines of he is disinterested in me, or at the very least, resents me for everything I've done to me. You see, we never really got along. I wanted to go back to the Vale so dearly, that I purposely upset him. I hoped if he hated me enough that Lady Olenna would be forced to return me. Little did I know I was not a match for Lady Olenna, though I impishly made numerous attempts to not fit in with the Tyrells. Within the latest years, I began to realize how awful I was to him and tried to make amends.

"Albeit too late, I'm afraid, but Mace also did make attempts at appeasing me... With the wrong things. Be it lavishing jewelry on me or exotic bolts of silk, I never wanted these material things. So, when I heard they were going on a hunt, I thought I should go. You see, to add my impudence, I demanded to be taught to fight at a young age, again hoping the Tyrells would return me to the Vale. This is not acceptable in the south, but Lady Olenna humored me having a bow. I recall her words exactly, 'If it is to be anything, a bow in the hands of a woman with keen eyes shall always strike true'. Of course, I wasn't very good following her endearing words, I daresay I'm not a perfect shot, but nonetheless I kept up with it because it was a good way to keep my nose out of trouble.

"Now, circling back to the hunt... We were hunting deer, it was the perfect season to acquire a stag with a beautiful full rack and Mace had been craving venison. Winter brings snow south and so we were hunting in the snowy foothills of the Dornish Marches closest to Highgarden. Mace... is rather loud. Be it riding, drinking, or just being his merry self, he's never been on for subtlety. The hunting party split up because of this, as half hoped to be successful and give Mace the venison he wanted, and the other wished to accompany Mace. I was among the latter group with the Tyrell kennelmaster. A dog was sent forward and didn't return, sending the kennel master looking for her.

"Mace believed he had spotted a stag and blundered after it. Personally, I do think he saw a buck, but I think it was fleeing from what had prohibited the hound from returning. We greeted a shadowcat full in the face, lapping up the blood from its kill; the dog. Both of us were frozen for a moment, contemplating what to do, and before reasoning that we should chase it down or ride it off into the mountains, Mace turned his horse to flee. A grave mistake, as the shadowcat, seeing threat to the meal it had and prospect of a much larger meal that had revealed its back to him, it pounced.

"The shadowcat's claws gouged the rump of the horse, dragging it down to the ground with its prowess. I mean, this cat must have weighed as much as the horse. I give Mace credit, he did keep his seat as the horse fell hard, pinning him to the ground. The moment the cat had leapt, I had been shaken from my stupor, albeit too late, and fired an arrow at it. I took it between the shoulder blades just as the horse, Mace, and the cat toppled over. To remind you, Mace was in the way of the horse's head. Perhaps the cat thought that Mace was the head, but it paused in the confusion and perhaps it was jarred from the horse kicking out at it before falling.

"I took the opportunity to shoot another arrow, which struck a front limb, and remove my skinning knife from my saddle. There was no heroic removal of Mace's sword, in fact, the closer I drew to the shadowcat, the more afraid my horse became, and bucked me just feet. I wasn't as lucky as Mace and fell from the saddle, arrows spilling out of the quiver, and my knife flying from my hands. I landed quite hard, remaining on the ground as the shadowcat decided which prey was more tempting. Apparently, I was. I only managed to knock an arrow and fire it again as it flew at me and as Olenna had hoped, I struck true. The shadowcat still fell on top of me, the behemoth weight feeling as if it would crush me, but it had died before mauling me; and arrow through its left eye into the skull.

"The kennel master managed to help me out from underneath the shadowcat before we got Mace to his feet. I was covered in the blood of the cat because I had been beneath it. And it was the same kennelmaster who insisted that we skin the cat for the shadowskin, which I earned to wear as a cloak. Mace was not afraid of me because of what had happened, in fact, he was gracious that I'd saved his life. I was just glad that no one had perished aside from the shadowcat, hound, and horse. I did jar my shoulders quite badly and was bruised all over from the brunt of the shadowcat's fall, but I was relatively unscathed otherwise."

He absorbed the story as she sat on a boulder across from him, the details considerably more believable now that he had context. What he drew most from it that Elyse had been acting out of instinct and hadn't purposely demeaned Mace. Additionally, their relationship was strained because she had wanted to return to the Vale. Eddard wondered why she hadn't been allowed to visit, perhaps she would have been kinder to Mace had she been allowed to return to the Vale periodically.

A reasonable story with reasonable outcomes. The engagement had been cut off following the hunt, so many believed it was _because_ of the hunt. Rather, it had been a compilation of events and ironically followed the dangerous encounter with a shadowcat. Of course southrons would try and make it out as if this dramatic event was the causation to breaking off an engagement. Lady Elyse was a homesick child who had acted out of spite, which threw Ned more questions. Why had she never returned? From her own mouth, she had wanted to, but had never been allowed. His own loyalty to Jon clouded his better judgement, but perhaps there was more information he didn't possess; just as he hadn't known the true story behind the betrothal break off. No love seemed to be lost fortunately.

"How do you feel following your betrothal being broken off?" he asked her, honestly curious.

"Mace and I actually got along considerably better once it had been decided the match was illmade. I do not mind his personality when I can consider him more of a brother, but as a husband..." she trailed off, her countenance shifting as she realized that she appeared slightly crestfallen. "I fear I would have spent most of my time butting heads with him. I'd be doing you a disservice by telling you I'm sweet, agreeable, and timid. Lady Olenna... Lady Olenna raised me in a certain manner and as many know, she controls House Tyrell. I have opinions of my own, which I am not afraid to voice. It is better you know sooner rather than later, in case that's not the type of wife you were looking for."

She had to know that the Vale's worth was on her shoulders. Even if Jon Arryn remarried, having a son would be a gamble, and Elyse's hand would guarantee the Vale. Deep down, Ned felt a sense of duty to Jon, to make certain that the Vale didn't end up in the wrong hands. Otherwise, her words did not frighten him. She was chatty, if not very well spoken, but her honesty was refreshing. He had not expected that of a lady raised in the south, but it could have also been her way to weed out suitors. How would they react to her blunt words? Would they accept the challenge and think they could tame the falcon? Or would they bow down to the falcon just to have the chance to be Warden of the East? Ned gazed into her eyes, finding himself soaring within the blue sky depths before he found words.

"I cannot say what 'kind' of wife I am looking for other than one who is forward and loyal," he told her, her shoulders sliding down slightly as if she had been worried about his rebuttal.

"As I could ask the same," she agreed, nodding slowly. "My father picked you. I know he was intended to marry Lysa Tully in hopes of producing an heir, but from what I understand, I'm an anomaly. All other attempts for a child ended in heartbreak and suffice to say, it might be due in part to my father's ability to produce children. Still, circling back, you were raised by him and so... I presume you must be a good man."

Ned chuckled lightly, feeling his cheeks burn from her compliment. "I try to be, but you shall have to be the judge of that."

"Just be yourself, I've been surrounded by too many men who try to be more than they are to be impressive," she said before shifting the subject. "I know you have siblings, are they all here for the tourney?"

"Yes, my family is all in attendance. My elder brother is Brandon, the younger Benjen. I also have a sister named Lyanna," he told her.

"Wonderful! And I know that your brother, Brandon, is betrothed to Lady Catelyn Tully, so I presume the Tullys are here as well."

Eddard nodded.

"Despite the insipid extravagance of this tourney, I daresay we'll find one way or another to look beyond it's superficial face," she pushed herself to her feet, her curls bobbing around her as she smiled at him.

 _She talks a lot, doesn't she?_ Ned thought, offering a gentle smile in return as he stood up from the stone he had been sitting on. He didn't quite mind it, the brightness in her voice, the engaging expressions, and her confidence was somewhat infectious. Lady Elyse was radiant not only in appearance, but in disposition. Her frankness was an attractive trait, but also in due part to her eloquence and the light on her face. _And that's a dangerous trait for a lady, isn't it? Smiling eyes, honest words built on a silver tongue, and friendliness that pulls you in... There are bound to be others that admire her._

He didn't know why he thought that, as she was already promised to him. Just their morning conversation had drawn him in. A part of him felt bad that he could only take her words with a grain of salt until she had proven otherwise. Desperately, he hoped that the exuberant young lady he spoke to now wasn't a southron ruse or face she wore. Brandon's words lingered in his head, which he now tried to shake away as he offered his arm to Elyse.

Dawn had passed and much of the grounds were busy with people milling around. From challengers seeking the lavish prizes, to noble girls ogling at the hedge knights and their armor, their attention was drawn mostly by the inky black banner flying at the head of an entourage of horses and some knights cloaked in snow white. The banner of the Targaryens boasted the crimson three headed dragon, marking the attendance of the royal party. A wheelhouse was ahead, mostly likely containing the king and perhaps the queen. Many were gathering to greet the royal party, eyes admiring the details of the dark wheelhouse with dragons carved into the wood or perhaps it was the rider just up ahead who was approaching the rear of the guard.

The black horse wore a dapper ensemble in the Targaryen colors, the fabric fluttering around the mare's muscular curvature. The rider was lean, adorned in a fine doublet that glinted with silver thread embroidery that nigh matched the rider's hair. Prince Rhaegar smiled broadly at those around him as he approached, a rider flanked him, with a much more serious face than the prince; the Sword of the Morning. Broader and more imposing, the pale glow of the hilt of his sword drawing envious stares from those who knew its lineage.

Eddard hadn't thought much at all of the royal party's arrival until he noticed that the prince was approaching them.

"Lady Elyse!" he proclaimed excitedly, dismounting in a graceful swoop, landing neatly on his feet like a feline. His dark cloak swung around him as he approached, paying little heed to customs as he trailed forward, the reins of his horse in hand.

"Your grace," Elyse dropped her hand from Ned's arm to curtsy, her head bowed slightly.

The prince brushed the pleasantries away with a smile. "Come now, we're good friends."

"And many eyes watch us, your grace. Be us good or poor friends, we must still observe proper pleasantries in front of others... Please, this is my betrothed, Lord Eddard Stark," she gestured to Eddard, who had not met the prince before, but had heard of the prince's glory.

Rhaegar was impossibly handsome with deep, violet eyes, a strong jaw and straight nose. He had no facial hair, his long silver hair sweeping over his shoulder in a loose plait. With long, elegant fingers, Rhaegar took Elyse's hand between his, in a friendly, but gentle manner. "You always were so proper in court, despite your more daring hobbies. I am glad to see you have not changed much," he glanced at Eddard, not mirth or dislike in his eyes. "A pleasure to meet you. I hope you're well prepared for trying to tame the falcon, the Tyrells tried to clip her wings, and now she is due to marry a Northerner. Perhaps it is for the best-" he glanced back fondly at Lady Elyse.

Eddard bowed respectfully to the prince. "The honor is mine, your grace."

"We'll need to meet later in private. My wife, Elia, will likely be thrilled to see you again. Perhaps your betrothed would also prefer to join us tomorrow for dinner? I have some wonderful wine from the Arbor that I think would be worth opening to paw over what's happened in the last few years since I've seen you," Prince Rhaegar suggested, glancing between the two.

"I am honored by such an invitation and shall accept. I am unaware if Eddard has any previous engagements, so I do not wish to commit him to this gathering."

"I would also be honored to join the prince and princess for dinner," Eddard inclined.

"Splendid!" Rhaegar grinned, patting Elyse's hand. "Sunset should be a good time. We are staying within Harrenhal. I have no doubt you'll find your way, I'll inform the guards to expect you."

"We shall be there," Elyse promised, squeezing his hand before withdrawing her own and stepping back toward Eddard. "Your journey must have been long and you've only just arrived. We shall leave you to relax before then-"

"Right," Rhaegar agreed. "Until tomorrow."

"Until tomorrow evening," she bid, gazing past the prince toward the Sword of the Morning. For a moment, it appeared as if she were going to greet him, but instead turned back to Ned with a strained expression.

With Lady Elyse came a plethora of information and relationships he had no knowledge on. If she was a Northerner, he might have been able to get some access to her ongoings, but she had spent most of her life south. The only people who knew her were those that she had been surrounded by and this not only included the Tyrells and their subordinate houses, but also those in King's Landing. Ned would have to learn and if he felt the need to, ask about the relationships she had with other noble or royal families.

"Would you like something to drink? The sun is rather bright today," Eddard suggested, the thoughtful expression plastered on Elyse's face leading him to believe that the merry exchange wasn't as merry as it had been displayed. _Southrons_... he thought dreadfully.

"Yes, I think I could use a drink. Perhaps... perhaps we could go visit your family? I would like to meet them," Lady Elyse suggested, her voice cracking slightly.

"A drink first and a moment of rest, then you shall meet the rest of the Starks," Ned promised her, leading her away from the clustering crowd that was still observing the royal party's arrival. He waited until they had walked a good distance and crossed the threshold of where the Northern tents were pitched. They passed the banner of the Karstark winter sun before he spoke plainly, "Are you alright?"

Elyse turned her keen eyes toward him, silently observing him before deciding to give an answer. "Well enough, though now I need to prepare myself for a royal dinner," exhaustion crept into her voice, but she turned a smile up at him. "You'll see tomorrow, entertaining royalty is arduous."

"The prince seems friendly," Ned decided.

"Oh, there will be no lack of conversation, but that's just the problem isn't it? I'm not keen on being drilled about the last 3 years of my life, including telling between rumor and truth and the prince _adores_ talking. Just... do not get him started on reading between the lines of ballads or songs-"

"Ah, so is this where your disdain of music comes from?" Eddard mused, putting the pieces together.

"Perhaps in tandem with my experience riding to Harrenhal," Elyse muttered, slightly grudgingly.

"What does a lady, such as yourself, prefer to talk about if not the arts?" he continued, with mock curiosity.

"Well, if I had to be honest," she drawled, considering Eddard with an open stare. "I enjoy listening to other people speak about themselves. Not in a bragging manner, but in a way that I can understand better what it may be like to live in their shoes. I have lived such a privileged life, as many of our other peers, that it isn't frequent that we take a step back and say 'How are the things I do affecting others beneath my station?' And it is a question that should be more frequently asked. Prince Rhaegar and I often spoke of philosophy and philanthropy, as he approached me when I was doing some of my work in King's Landing.

"House Tyrell has always been keen in philanthropy, a trait that I have rather enjoyed. In King's Landing, I worked on a mission to help restore shelters intended for the less fortunate in the city, which is a good portion of the population. This included importing grains and a daily soup kitchen that is run by Holy brothers and sisters. I headed coordination, my first real job I suppose, to gauge whether or not I could handle the stress and the many intricacies as well as unanticipated bumps... Sorry, I'm rambling and being a little hypocritical aren't I? I said I don't like listening to people bragging and yet-"

Eddard smiled at her sense of self. "I did not think you were bragging. You were telling me about what you did in King's Landing."

An appreciative sigh escaped her lips. "Yes... well, it draws back to what I said about listening to others. While working throughout parts of the city, I spoke to the impoverished residents to see if there was anything additional that we could do. I met people of all walks of life; handicapped soldiers left jobless, abused women thrown out of their households, children born in brothels- I learned so much that most nobles turn a blind eye to and willfully ignore."

"You spoke to the residents?" Ned repeated, taking in Arryn once again. They had paused in front of his tent, having walked the length of the encampment to the Stark area. "You were there?"

"Of course I was. I didn't sign paperwork, I saw my work through, and I even helped some days in handing out rations. The Tyrells were doing their part in helping feed the poor and so I brought these accounts before Prince Rhaegar, after collecting dozens of reports. I proposed that there be sanctuaries throughout the cities and programs to help find work for those who were injured in duty. I admit, I was quite enraged by it all, that I certainly step outside of courtesy. I am fortunate that Prince Rhaegar listened and agreed to help and did not have me punished for how belligerent I was. I left tact at the door in the face of so many suffering at the doorstep of the Red Keep. He took an interest in me during my time in King's Landing, which I suppose is how we became somewhat of friends, as I had to run logistics by him."

"And no doubt, the prince likely wishes to hear what you have been busying yourself with for the past few years?" Eddard filled in.

Elyse nodded wearily. "I'm afraid it hasn't been quite as impressive as when I was in King's Landing, perhaps you can understand my trepidation to spend an entire dinner with them."

"You might have declined," Ned suggested, but knew that there was no proper way to decline a prince's invitation.

Elyse gave him a wry look that bespoke that silently.

"Here, please come in and have a seat," Ned pushed open the tent flap and offered her into his tent. He was thankful it was clean, unlike his sister's, as he hadn't originally intended on bringing Elyse there on their first meeting. She took a seat in one of the wooden chairs at the small table in the tent. "What would you like to drink?"

"Just rose or barely water should suffice," Elyse answered simply, staring down at the wolf pelt rug with interest.

Eddard left the tent to fetch the water, his heart fluttering slightly. Why? Was it the words she had told him, the reason why she and the prince were companions? The fact that Lady Arryn was an honest, perhaps sometimes prone to passionate outbursts, but compassionate and empathetic person? Few nobles ever thought of those beneath them, but it was the base born that ran everything. It was they that supported noble life by working on tasks from seemingly mundane to of greater import. Eddard's own father, Rickard, had stressed how important it was to appreciate those that served and the others you looked after.

Rickard had given him a lecture after learning the Vale would someday be Eddard's. These words had likely been shared with Brandon, but since Ned wasn't to inherit Winterfell, Rickard had no reason to spend the time honing Eddard.

"Sit with those who serve you. Ask how their families fair. Ask about their lives. Ask how things may be improved. You are not all knowing and any lord who fancies themselves so, is a fool. Being humble and empathetic makes you a much better lord and fortunately, you know many in the Vale already, and you may know what issues they already face. Still, establishing rapport with your servants strengthens the bond between you and them. It creates better workers. Thus, it creates a better environment to thrive in. All it takes is for you to listen and to ask, nothing more."

But Eddard knew that asking also meant he may have to act in different scenarios. Just as Lady Elyse had described asking the commoners about their lives, she learned of the injustice and was forced to act. Fortune smiled upon them, their births higher and importance marked on them on their first name day, but others were not as fortunate and thus, they were responsible in making certain their voices were heard.

Perhaps it was the fact that Lady Elyse cared that made his heart flutter. The idea that a southron flower was not just a pretty thing to admire, but also a weapon to be wielded. This was not the self absorbed aristocrat that Brandon had warned him of and Eddard was relieved... and eager.

Eddard found a barrel of barley water and filled a tankard for Lady Elyse, returning to his tent to hear voices just outside. Upon opening the flap, he saw that his brother was sitting across from Lady Elyse with a rather boisterous smile on his face. The Arryn seemed relaxed, a warm smile illuminating her face as she spoke to Brandon. Her eyes swept over to the entrance, the smile not fleeing at the sight of Eddard.

"Ned!" Brandon stood up. "I was wondering where you'd gotten off to. Inviting your betrothed to your tent on the first day? I daresay father may not be entirely pleased by this, though Lady Elyse has assured me you've only returned for a short rest."

Eddard's grey eyes bore into his brother, trying to come up with some sort of explanation. He knew Brandon was only poking fun at him, but he also didn't wish for Elyse to get the wrong idea. "I only offered a place for her to rest out of the sun," he answered simply.

"Your brother has been nothing but courteous to me. Given that we're not inside of a castle, there are few places I can rest privately out of the sun. I willingly entered this tent, so you cannot only blame him, you can put it on my shoulders as well," Elyse informed Brandon, though not unkindly. Brandon had no intentions of tattling on them.

Eddard stepped forward and offered the water to Elyse, who accepted it graciously.

"The two of you have been out all morning?" Brandon inquired with keen interest.

"It hasn't been that long, has it?" Lady Elyse asked.

"It's nearly afternoon. I suppose it's well that the two of you are getting on," he gave his brother an impish look, as if to ask otherwise. "Have you met our father yet?"

"Not as of yet, I was intending on perhaps getting freshened-"

"Nonsense, you look wonderful as you are. I believe Benjen and Lyanna may be with him, if you've yet to meet them as well," Brandon insisted.

Eddard could plainly see that Elyse was feeling a bit rushed, but she gave a tentative smile and nodded in spite of this. "Very well," she agreed, taking another sip of her water before standing.

"Lady Elyse if you need another moment-" Eddard started, shooting a glare at Brandon.

"I am fine. What is it but a short walk over a few tents?" she returned, leveling an earnest smirk at him.

"That's the spirit," Brandon encouraged, leading the trio out of the tent and across to the larger tent belonging to their father. Compared to Eddard's tent, Rickard's was thrice the size and had two proud Stark banners flanking the entrance with torches. Within, a wooden chandelier was hung from the center support and a long table filled the goliath chamber. Bear and wolf pelts decorated the ground, covering the dirt with fur. Toward the back, a large bed was filled with more pelts, though slightly obscured by a curtain that separated the main area from the sleeping.

Sitting at the table enjoying an afternoon meal was the rest of the Stark family, lifting their heads from their discussion to see the approaching newcomers. Lyanna and Benjen remained seated, but looked on as Rickard stood up.

"Ned," he greeted, but his eyes went past him, to the young woman who entered behind them.

"Lady Elyse Arryn," Eddard introduced. "My father, Lord Rickard Stark, sister, Lady Lyanna, and brother Benjamin," he gestured to each respectively as he said their names.

Lady Elyse gave a curtsy at her name, Lord Rickard approaching to formally greet her. "Please, relax, we are to be family soon. Eat at our table as if it is your own. Have you had a midday meal as of yet?"

Eddard had not witnessed the softer side of his father in a long time. Often Rickard seemed hard and subdued, quietly judging, and only offering up his word when he thought it time to weigh in. There had been fleeting times since returning home that Ned saw the mask of the lord come off. But as his children were being lined up to marry, this mask seemed to be slipping more often in anticipation for the day that the majority of his children no longer lived in Winterfell.

"No, I have not yet, my lord," Elyse answered, being guided by a large hand to the bench.

"And you just arrived this morning. You must be famished."

"Just a little peckish," she admitted, finally sitting down.

"Brandon another setting?" Rickard called.

Brandon retrieved the setting from a small cupboard that had a few bottles of wine stacked on top of it. He also fetched a second for Eddard, eying his brother mischievously as they joined the rest of the Stark family. Bread, cheese, dried fruit, and slices of salted meat were arranged on a board in front of them. A bottle of wine had been opened for lunch and Rickard was filling Elyse's cup.

"This is a local vint, slightly bitter, and a gift from Lord Hoster," Rickard explained.

Eddard wondered if the wine would be suitable for Elyse's tastes, given that she had grown up in the best wine making lands in Westeros. No doubt she had ample access to Arbor gold or hippocras made in Highgarden. If not, the Tyrells could have imported other vints from Lannisport or Dorne.

Lady Elyse took a delicate sip and smiled. "It's not too sweet, a very nice dry blend."

Conversation began naturally over the meal, Rickard inquiring about Elyse's life in Highgarden and how Lady Olenna fared. Much of the information that Elyse had told Eddard so far had come out again, including the story of how the shadowcat was defeated. Lyanna and Benjen leaned excitedly toward her, as Elyse explained to her own chagrin, albeit more modest with numerous sets of eyes compared to just Ned. During Rickard's drilling of questions, Elyse answered easily and with easy confidence. The Starks learned that she was keen on philanthropy, adhering to the philosophy that "There is always something that can be improved." She enjoyed falconing, riding, archery, and joining hunts and had been on numerous before the fated shadowcat encounter. She also enjoyed reading history and was very well read in the geography and topography of Westeros. Lady Elyse had traveled throughout much of southern Westeros, including Dorne, Lannisport and Casterly Rock, and Oldtown. Elyse seemed most excited to recount Oldtown.

Only when they realized how long the conversation had been ebbing on did Elyse realize she needed to get prepared for the start of tourney feast. She gave an apologetic look to all of them, plainly enjoying her time amongst the Starks.

"It's only for a bit, you are more than welcome to sit with us for the feast as well," Rickard reminded her with a chuckle.

"Thank you, I appreciate the gesture and perhaps I shall take you up on that offer," Elyse admitted, standing up.

Eddard offered her a hand, knowing it was only proper to escort her back to the Tyrell region of the camp seeing she had no ladies tending her.

"I'm sorry for my brother," Eddard told her once they had made their way out of the head tent and back across the path that divided north from south encampment.

Elyse's lips curved up and she smiled at him. "Why?"

"Brandon was a bit... overbearing and questioning of your honor."

"I did not perceive it as that. I thought he was just teasing you," she responded. "I liked your family. They were quite fun to converse with. Especially Lyanna, she has a wildness in her that I recognize."

"Lyanna..." Eddard sighed, thinking of his sister. "My father calls it the "wolfsblood" that sometimes makes us Starks 'wild'. Brandon also seems to have it, but I've come to think of it as just a 'wild' temper. No matter of punishment ever seems to change their dispositions." If his sister had even an ounce of the poise that Elyse did, perhaps she's be more of a force to be reckoned with, but Lyanna was difficult. He loved her to pieces, but also worried incessantly about her because such a temper on a woman was not accepted by others.

"I was like that once. Remember I told you that I once yelled at Prince Rhaegar?"

"I don't think you're quite as much as Lyanna. You are driven by passion for others, Lyanna is driven by her own motives."

"She's still young. She's ten and four, isn't she?"

Eddard nodded.

"She has passion too, she just doesn't know how to wield it yet. Perhaps during our stay in Winterfell, I can help temper that passion. I see a lot of myself in Lyanna."

"That's a bit hard to believe," Eddard blurted out before he could stop himself.

Elyse paused, dragging him to a halt, staring up at him with her lovely blue eyes. "I'm not perfect, Eddard. I know this is only our first day meeting and it's quite easy to see me as I've been taught to be, but I've made mistakes, and I probably will in the future too. I told you that I used to pick on Mace incessantly. I wasn't always kind, nor am I completely even now. Until either of us can prove we are who we are, everything today was just words. And words are cheap."

"You don't hide. You speak your mind, but a much more eloquent way that I expect Lyanna may ever be capable of-"

"All it takes is the proper mentor. I had Lady Olenna to temper me. Perhaps we all have an innate makeup of how we will act, but our upbringings also vastly affect our dispositions. Do you know what many people call Lady Olenna?"

"The Queen of Thorns," Eddard answered.

"Do not let a pretty face and gilded words distract you. You have yet to see the thorns Lady Olenna has passed onto me," she seemed so serious, warning him not to trust a comely face. But her warning of it only made Eddard chuckle.

"Did she leave any thorns for her daughters or give them all to you?"

"Mina and Janna?" Elyse said in slight disbelief. "I'm afraid most of those thorns were passed onto me," she responded, trying not to seem amused by his question, but a small smirk was tucked away.

"NED!" they had only approached the copse of the Hightower tents when the voice boomed through the air like thunder. Ned's heart immediately dropped into his stomach, recognizing the voice at once.

Robert Baratheon swaggered into view, a very tall and impressive man. It had been a little time since Eddard had seen his childhood friend, but he had a handsome clean shaven face. Dark, wiry hair curled like brambles and his striking eyes pinned the couple to the ground where they stood.

"You look like you've seen a ghost!" Robert guffawed, his eyes sliding over to Lady Elyse after taking notice of her. "I heard you had been betrothed, but seven hells, I didn't know that Lady Arryn was so lovely. I love Jon like a father, but, you know..." he trailed off, as if indicating that Jon wasn't very attractive before settling back on Elyse. "Robert Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End."

Eddard could only groan internally at the exchange, but Lady Elyse appeared unbothered. "As you know, Lady Elyse Arryn of-" but before she could finish, Robert had taken it upon himself to embrace her like a lost sister. Her composure slipped for a minute as she was lifted up off of her feet (the difference between Robert a 6 and a half foot giant and the petite Arryn, quite considerable), in which Ned protested loudly.

"Robert!"

"Oh come on now, she's going to be my sister too. We're basically brothers," Robert boomed before setting her back down on her feet. He had a look in his eyes that Eddard recognized only too clearly; lust.

Lady Elyse teetered back on her feet, but instead of appearing faint, her eyes sharpened and she leveled a nasty glare at Robert. The jovial expression fled from Robert's face for a moment, recognizing the brooding eyes of Jon Arryn in his daughter.

"I didn't ruffle your feathers, did I?" Robert teased, recovering from her venomous glare.

"Eddard, I shall see you tonight at the feast. I can see myself the rest of the way," Elyse ignored Robert and spoke directly to the Stark. Before Eddard could apologize, Elyse turned on her heel gracefully, whipping Robert with her long hair, before she stalked off.

Eddard wanted to follow her, but knew that Robert would just be at his heels like a puppy. His thoughts were shattered as Robert slapped him hard on the back, his teeth chattering together from the brunt of the smack. It was his turn to glare at Robert.

"What?"

"Boundaries. Boundaries, Robert."

"She's your betrothed and she's Jon's daughter."

"We did not grow up with her and this is the first day I've met her. Perhaps _years_ down the line behavior like that will be acceptable," Eddard snipped.

"First day and you're already that fond of her, Ned?" Robert perceived. "I mean, she is beautiful. Who thought that Jon was hiding that pretty thing in Highgarden?"

"For good reason with you in the Vale," Eddard muttered.

Robert seemed not to hear him in that moment. When a woman caught his eye, he tended to stay on the subject. "I didn't think there was someone who might rival Lyanna's beauty, but the Arryn certainly comes close."

"I would prefer not to debate the beauty of my sister in comparison to my betrothed," Eddard informed his friend.

"My point is that not only are you to become Warden of the East, but have one of the most lovely women in the Seven Kingdoms as your wife. I have seen a considerable amount of women, so I would know."

"I know and as comely as Lady Arryn is, beauty is only one facet of a person," Eddard reminded Robert, aware that his words fell on deaf ears. Robert's infatuation with his sister was because of her appearance. Robert didn't quite understand or know what it was like dealing with someone as willful as Lyanna.

"Right, right."

* * *

_**Faceclaims** _

_**Robert Baratheon - Henry Cavill in Immortals** _

_**Rhaegar Targaryen - Tom Hopper in Vikings (given the paler hair and violet eyes)** _

_**Arthur Dayne - Peter Mooney in Camelot** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you for reading. There will be numerous changes throughout and some canons may not be exactly as portrayed for the sale of the AU. 
> 
> My post schedule will likely be every Friday, as these three were released in succession to establish a foundation.


	4. Elyse I

Within the confines of her own tent, Elyse eased into the copper bath, trying to wash away her temper. Cloves and orange peels dominated the tent, a thick mist settling over the furniture and rugs. Simmering in her bath, she only turned her head at the sound of the tent flapping. Few would have entered without announcing themselves, so she wasn't surprised to see Olenna approaching her, pensive and sharp. A woman moving into her mid years, Olenna was still quite handsome, the marks of her previous beauty still strong. Without a word, the Tyrell sat down in a nearby chair, scrutinizing the dress that had been laid out on the bed. 

Finally, after a few minutes of abysmal silence, Olenna decided to reveal what she was thinking. "I hear you are to dine with the prince and princess tomorrow evening."

Of course Olenna would have ears everywhere, especially amongst such a large crowd. Sitting up in the bath, Elyse moved her wet hair away from her face as not to look like a drowned rat. "Yes, upon seeing my, Prince Rhaegar was keen to become acquainted."

"Reacquainted," Olenna snorted indignantly. "Perhaps see how many more ideas you've in your head for bettering the city his father peevishly neglects," she paused, considering the past. "Or for other reasons."

"He met me with Eddard, as you probably know. Any hopes he might have are ill founded, nor am I interested," Elyse said coldly, wrapping her fingers around her arms. Despite the heat of the water, a chill swept into her bones, the memory of a fleeting, unwelcome romance in King's Landing making her stomach twist.

"If you didn't have that damned honor of yours, you might be the princess married to Rhaegar," Olenna pointed out shrewdly.

"It's not honor, it's principle. I was betrothed to your son."

"Something I would have gladly waved away had you mentioned that Rhaegar was interested in you. Dorne didn't even have their hand on the table yet and given your alliances with Highgarden and being the daughter of Jon Arryn, you would have been a smart match."

"I didn't want it!" Elyse snapped, furious eyes burning at the older woman. "I would not trade being queen for my own happiness."

"And that's why you're a fool. Ah, you're still young and think love exists. Tell me, how was the boring, young Eddard Stark?"

" _Lovely_ ," she returned, just as haughty as Olenna. "I thought he was a kind, courteous man. There's nothing markedly special about him, I will admit this, but I also do not feel uncomfortable around him."

"And you're handing him the Vale on a silver platter," Olenna drolled, unbothered by Elyse's attitude.

"He seems earnest, maybe even foolish, but I can work with that. You weren't able to change your husband, but Eddard seems intelligent enough to learn and I'd prefer a partnership."

"My ability to change your fate is gone. You'd think after all these years, you'd understand where you stand as a woman, but you've always been stubborn."

"I wonder where I got that quality from."

"Your father and me, no doubt," Olenna retorted thinly. "Now you'll get to return home and live out your lives in mild luxury, bored out of your mind."

"There is plenty in the Vale to occupy me, including the barbarians in the mountains," Elyse argued, picking up the sponge and scrubbing at her skin to get rid of the riding grim from her journey. "And as you know, I've never cared too much for extreme luxury."

"But enough luxury. Do you think that the Starks have a copper tub and servants drawing them up hot water for a bath?" Olenna arched a brow at her. "You'll need to cultivate the Vale more if you wish to travel the way you are now."

"I don't need a bath when I travel. Additionally, there are bath houses here in Harrenhal that I could have used-"

"But you preferred the _luxury_ of your own tent in privacy. It seems you think that the Northerners are much kinder than we are. They are different, albeit stubborn and coarse, but they judge a woman acting like a man all the same. Your fate changes little now that you are in the hands of the Starks."

Elyse did not respond to Olenna's badgering, knowing that the woman was trying to rile her up. Their relationship often revolved around heated conversations, if not fully blown out arguments. She was willful and Olenna had always recognized this. However, the Queen of Thorns was also brutally blunt and tried to keep Elyse tethered to reality.

Olenna stood up from her seat and glided slowly toward Elyse in the bath, her verdant, shrewd eyes settling on the young lady. She was even more petite than Elyse, barely on the cusp of 5 feet. Standing over the bath, she gave the young woman a look that could have curdled blood. 

"Should have never let you pick up that bow," Olenna muttered irritably, the darkness on her countenance vanishing. "I wouldn't be so invested in you if my own children were half as clever as you are stubborn. You may call yourself an Arryn, but you were raised a Tyrell. I hope you'll remember this when you inherit the Vale."

"I would not so easily forget those who raised me," Elyse reminded her, finishing up the bathing as she lathered more soap. Stepping out of her bath, she seized the neighboring drying cloth, even the small brazier in the room not warming the tent enough. Her skin hissed in the cold of the evening. "I swear, winter is still here, it gets so frigid at night."

Olenna snorted, not paying much heed to the naked girl as she slipped on her chemise and underclothes. She sat upon a foot rest, Olenna picking up a brush and pulling much of the water from Elyse's curls. "Tonight, you will be the most beautiful lady in attendance, the envy of the court as always. Only now those that do not visit the south often will bear witness. Display your prowess, I want you to wear the shadowskin cloak tonight."

"I thought we were going to wait," Elyse mused, glancing in the direction of where the cloak had been hung.

"Tonight," Olenna decided. "It will compliment your dress and set a statement... I have heard the prince intends on singing at the welcoming feast this evening."

Elyse groaned. "Then we'll witness which ladies have their wits about them."

"Few, undoubtedly," Olenna grimaced. 

The tent flap fluttered again, Janna Tyrell entering the tent. She was a lovely girl with rolling chestnut curls and warm doe brown eyes. However, she possessed none of Olenna's tact, her eyes settling on the two. 

"How did today fare? I heard you spent the majority of it with the Starks," Janna began fussing excitedly, claiming the other plush chair, leaning forward eagerly. "You saw Brandon Stark too?"

"Yes, I met all of the Starks today, including Brandon Stark," Elyse answered patiently. 

"A shame you're not marrying him. I hear he's the most handsome Stark," Janna sighed wistfully, her daydreams filled with the brooding, fiery tempered northman.

"I think that Eddard Stark is handsome," Elyse argued, which was true. Perhaps he was not handsome in the same way that Robert Baratheon or Rhaegar Targaryen was, but she enjoyed looking at his face nonetheless. His hair had been a bit messy, falling nearly to his shoulders, grey eyes that were light against his features, a face that appeared he'd forgotten to shave in his haste to meet with her. The calm expressions on his face attributed to why she might have also found him handsome. There was something soothing about his demeanor, she didn't feel the need to posture as much. Olenna would have reprimanded her had she known how honest Elyse had been during the course of the day.

She felt she owed Eddard that. A warning on how terrible she could be, though he hadn't completely believed her. 

"Perhaps, but comparatively to many of the other lords here?" Janna pressed, as if rubbing in that Eddard was only subpar in relative handsomeness.

"Appearances aren't everything," Elyse snipped. 

"Right, look at Elyse, she's the most becoming lady in Westeros and is settling for a 2nd son," Olenna broke in, openly protesting her disdain for the arrangement. 

Elyse ignored Olenna, keenly aware that the older woman's bitterness was in the fact that Olenna had cultivated her carefully, preening her to take an important position. Heading the Vale was important, but Olenna had hoped for bigger strides and to possibly put a Tyrell constituent on the throne. Not growing up with a mother, Olenna was the closest thing Elyse would ever have to a matronly figure. As much as they snapped at each other, Elyse loved Olenna as if they were bound by blood. Often, she wondered if Olenna only had interest in her because of the alliances Elyse could bring to the Tyrells, but she realized that Olenna was more clever than that. Having raised Elyse in her likeness, she would know that eventually Elyse would suspect her manipulation. She had contemplated it often, wondering if Olenna truly cared for her, or if Elyse was just a piece on the chess board.

But it was moments like this, away from the prying eyes of the court, that Olenna consistently put effort into Elyse and heckled her like a mother hen. If she were truly a lost cause to be hidden away in the mountains, Olenna wouldn't bother... would she?

Upon finishing wringing out Elyse's hair, it was twisted and pinned away so that she could step into her gown. Janna gave her adopted sister a wistful look, not out of envy, but a sigh of admiration. Even if Elyse had been unkind toward Mace in their childhood, she had been unable to scrutinize Janna and Mina. Janna, being the youngest, had latched on to Elyse the moment she had arrived, barely a toddler adjunct to Elyse's 5 year old hip. Tyrells prided themselves on having ladies in wait, which Elyse had never been fond of. While she could manipulate relationships and gain doleful followers, wooed by a false demeanor, she'd never liked them helping her prepare herself. Aside from Olenna, Janna had been the only other person she'd let help her and it was because Janna had volunteered. 

They used to braid each other's hair. Elyse had learned how to create intricate braids in Janna's soft chestnut hair. The little girl had promised that when she was good enough, she would help Elyse in the same manner. Mina had always thought that was beneath her and often competed with Elyse due to their closeness in age. Mina was better in needlepoint and religion, but her own vanity and arrogance often made her so pig headed that she wasn't malleable enough for Olenna to work with. Since returning from King's Landing a few years prior, Mina had been affronted by the success Elyse left behind during her mission. 

Mina's own work had been in Oldtown, a project pitched by her in which she would try to help increase trade from the Arbor further north. An ambitious project, which would have done the Tyrells proud had she had much more planning. Due to how expensive Arbor wine was, Mina hadn't anticipated that the North wouldn't be interested in spending a good deal of their coin, at the beginning of winter, on wine. The merchant ships sent north encountered a bust and were forced to sail back through the tumultuous waters, where two ships were claimed by the sea. Even if Mina had the more ambitious project, her gamble had not paid off.

Instead, Elyse's engagement in her philanthropy project had become much of the talk around Highgarden, especially after Prince Rhaegar began investing his time in bettering the city for commoners. Elyse knew that Mina resented her for that, bringing the limelight away from the true daughter of the Tyrells and putting it onto the Arryn ward who was better at being a Tyrell. Aside from gaining alliances in King's Landing, Elyse had steadily been gaining traction as one of the most beautiful ladies in Westeros. Such a claim had been encouraged by Olenna and parroted by Mace, who had bragged about her comeliness, because it was the only thing he had found attractive about her when they were betrothed. Word had spread like wildfire until the entire southern part of Westeros was convinced of it. 

Now, at the tourney, in which most of the Seven Kingdoms would be attending, Elyse had to hold this title. Of course Olenna would be affronted that all her hard work and time put into Elyse only resulted in the 2nd Stark son marrying her. Truthfully, Elyse was glad she didn't have someone scrutinizing her every move. She was also thankful that he wasn't from the southern kingdoms or he might have heard all the stories she'd begun telling him, embellished as it traveled, and had higher expectations from her. Any lord in the south that did not know her personally or heard the story from her lips would have a grander idea of her than was reality. It was part of the reason she hated entertaining them after the shadowcat encounter. So many thought she was just as wild as the barbarians in the Vale.

Sticking one foot into her dress, Janna helped keep Elyse steady as she climbed into the start of the tourney gown. The piece had to be striking and also needed to depict her alliance with the Starks, as she was now set to wed Eddard. The piece had been commissioned by Olenna's favorite tailor, Channer Ridman. In Elyse's opinion, the work he did was fantastic, but he very plainly had 'types' of bodies that he preferred to work with. Her height wasn't much of an issue, as many women in the Tyrell family were also petite, but it was the lack of a buxom frame that had Channer complaining about fitting her. 

Elyse had never been bothered by being relatively lacking in the chest department, especially since some dresses could create the illusion that she had more than she did. She had heard other women complaining about how their backs hurt due to the added weight, which had helped the anxiety of being flat chested when she was younger. She knew it was due in part to her archery practice, the athleticism not making her as soft as other women. Some might even describe her frame as boyish, but she had been told that attractiveness was not only in appearance, but how you wielded it. Graceful movements, straight posture, and a confidently set jaw could override what she lacked. Still, there would always be critics, and those were the ones who picked out her shortcomings because they couldn't find other things to nitpick. They were jealous. And it was good to make others jealous, as it opened them up to their own insecurities and to act emotionally.

Mina had always been plain about her envy and she was weak because of it. Her vying for Olenna's attention only made the matron more vexed with her daughter's behavior. Why? Because Mina acted emotionally, rather than taking the time to think about her actions.

Elyse held the front of the dress up as Janna worked at the laces. She sucked in her breath, her ribs screaming as the built in corset was cinched. Since arriving back at her tent, she had made certain to drink a copious amount of water to stave off feeling faint. There would be dancing and Elyse expected that she would be on the floor the majority of the night, even if not with Eddard.

"Don't worry, I'm not lacing the bottom too tight," Janna muttered into her ear, breath tickling her.

It didn't matter, the dress was still more rigid and difficult to move in than Elyse preferred. However, she knew that for practicality she traded finesse and beauty, albeit the exchange was grudging. Janna pulled down her pinned hair and twisted the front curls away from her face, securing the long loose curls in a high ponytail that spiraled down to the small of Elyse's back. In her hand she had a silver comb with a falcon and moon. The moon was made of mother of pearl and the falcon of silver, a sapphire eye winking in the brazier's light. It was the only touch from her own house, a house that she barely knew. 

The dress was made of molten silver, dark and burnished to reflect the Stark grey. A built in corset tightened around her narrow waist and pushed up her chest as much as it could manage, the sweetheart neckline displaying a face collar and her slender neck. The short sleeves were off the shoulder, baring the skin tantalizingly, petaling off from the center of the neckline, framing the top of the bodice. The skirt fell down naturally, padded slightly by a thick petticoat. The fabric was luxurious and thick, embroidered with creeping vines along the skirt, intertwining with silver blue roses. The bodice was the pinnacle of the design, intended to draw the eyes in with the romantic off the shoulder sleeves and the dyed silver leather that had been sewn in overlapping scales, intended to mimic scale armor. The scales were long and almost featherlike, marrying the softness of the flowers to the armor.

A dainty, teardrop sapphire was hung on a white gold chain around her neck, dancing just above her breasts, against her collar. 

The piece was a statement and a clue hidden in plain sight. Olenna had been insistent in its purpose, wondering if anyone would be able to deduce the similarities later in the tourney or if they'd forget about it completely. She suspected the latter, convinced that most were too trivial to connect the dots. 

The shadowskin cloak, given how large the cat was in comparison to Elyse, had been tailored carefully to create an elegant fur cloak. The cloak swept around her shoulders, connected by a polished silver chain and brushed the hem of her dress, cloaking her in inky black fur slashed by silver stripes. The silver of her bodice stood out against the darkness of the fur, her eyes hauntingly luminous against the monochrome theme of her attire. 

Janna dismissed herself to finish preparing for the feast, but Olenna remained, scrutinizing the work on Elyse. "You are a warrior tonight. Let them not forget that you, a woman, fought the shadowcat and won. Let them not forget that you shall not be trifled with. Let them not forget that you are a Tyrell, despite the falcon in your hair. Let them not forget you," the woman dictated, her voice rapt and sharp like a blade, cutting through the silence in the tent. "Tonight is your true debut to the entire seven kingdoms, make them want you, make them wish to be you, make them eat out of your palm. You may be marrying a Stark, but you are not just the color of your husband."

"That's a bit ironic considering what colors I wear tonight," Elyse quipped, much to Olenna's dismay.

"And glib remarks are unlikely to earn any admirers," Olenna snipped back. "If you're going to make jests, at least be more eloquent about it."

Elyse rolled her eyes pedantically at Olenna, but when she gazed back at the middle aged woman, she saw a glint in her eyes. This would be the closest she'd get to Olenna crying, the shimmer in her shrewd eyes, pride that her work, however tedious, had surmounted to this. "You know I shall never forget my duty to House Tyrell," Elyse told her seriously.

"I know, you honorable sod."

Elyse settled down at her table while she waited for her escort to arrive. Olenna left her to prepare herself mentally. She didn't mind music when she danced to it, but the ballads were the longest and most arduous part of the night. She had to pretend as if the music moved her heart, but often failed to make herself cry. In other scenarios, Elyse could cry on command, but for ballads... she had become so tired of them that her tear ducts refused to be moved. Instead, she'd learned to make expressive eyebrows and looks at the singers, but upon learning that Rhaegar would likely sing, she knew it would be difficult to feign her impressions.

Once, she had thought she may care for him, but eventually realized that while Rhaegar was good, he was so hopelessly foolish that it turned her attraction against him. Attempts had been made to wizen Rhaegar, but they fell on hopelessly idyllic ears. Eddard Stark seemed to be an honorable fool, but at least he knew that the world could be cruel. Rhaegar was blind to this, just as he didn't comprehend an alliance with a female that did not consist of romance. Elyse had been trying to complete her mission to the best of her ability, her impassioned rant to the prince capturing his attention more than she had intended. 

_He has a wife now, with one child. I shouldn't be worrying about how he may act as much as I am,_ she rationalized, but still the feeling crept over her skin like a thousand spiders. 

Someone cleared their throat outside of the tent, drawing her head up and out of thought. She hadn't done a great job as stilling her emotions before the feast, but stood up, smoothing her skirt. 

"You may enter," she allowed, expecting Eddard Stark. 

Instead, the crimson black doublet of the prince flickered against the tent's brazier light. Her heart dropped to her feet as she clasped her hands neatly in front of her, fingers tightening. 

"Your grace... I wasn't expecting you," Elyse drawled carefully, keeping her voice even, if not a little stern.

"I apologize for surprising you like this, but..." Rhaegar paused, his violet eyes capturing the light of the flames, his jaw setting as he stared at her. "When I saw you, I knew I had to speak to you privately. Elyse..." he gave a sorrow filled sigh, his eyes desperate and miserable. "Ever since you've left King's Landing it feels like a piece of me left with you."

Elyse swallowed hard, making certain to keep her distance. Ned would be arriving at any moment and him catching the two of them together would be extremely unbecoming. Perhaps she could come up with an excuse as to why the prince had paid her a visit, something about old friends reminiscing or- "I'm sorry you feel that way. However, my escort shall be here soon and it will be ill for the both of us if you're noticed here," she informed him.

Rhaegar nodded slowly, his emotions clouding his better judgement as they often did. "I know, but... if I could change it-"

"We should not speak of what may have been or what may happen. My hand is promised to Eddard Stark. I shall be returning to the Vale and preside over my homeland. Please, do not make this more complicated than it needs to be," Elyse told him, clinging to her patience. 

He approached her and she took a tentative step back out of reflex. Her heart hammered in her chest, her ears blotting out the sounds around her as she glued her feet to the ground. "You've only grown more beautiful. How is it that fate separated us by just a year? Had your engagement to Mace been broken off earlier, it would be you by my side."

"Please leave," Elyse begged, desperation creeping into her voice as she stared up at him. 

"I promise I shall find a solution," Rhaegar continued, disillusioned, his longer fingers brushing her cheek. The unwarranted touch nearly made her flinch, her body screaming protest. She had frozen like this before, a deer before the hunter, unable to think or make words. She was not frozen by inexperience or love, but by fear. "A 2nd son is not deserving of you."

Finally, feeling came back to her, hair hissing into her lungs as she took an enormous step back. Why was it that she could throw her fury at others, but Prince Rhaegar managed to confound her? She didn't want to think about it, instead she closed her eyes and expelled the breath she had been holding. "I am marrying Eddard Stark, your grace. You are married to Princess Elia and have a beautiful child. I need no promise made, you do not owe me anything. Go to your wife's side, I am where I belong."

The wedding could not come soon enough. Rhaegar gave her an anguished look and nodded solemnly. "As High as Honor," he recited delicately. "You do as society dictates, but our love should not be bound by it. What we shared..."

"Was in the past and it has been years," Elyse had been hoping not to spur on this topic, especially due to the memories it dredged up. Pain, dejection, confusion... Was it her fault for not saying anything? Any woman in the Seven Kingdoms would have traded places with her. She was an idiot to regret what had happened. She should have married the prince... "Go, I shall not speak of this again," there was more force in her voice, the anger returning. She had felt it rise like a wave some months after, hating herself for being weak and hating the prince for taking advantage of a 15 year old girl. "Go!"

Prince Rhaegar knew he had overstayed his welcome and inclined his head toward her apologetically. As endearing as he seemed, he had still done what he had done. He saw no errors in what he had done, basking in sweet repudiation, thinking it had been mutual. He read the looks on her face as rage for their circumstances, but did not understand the rage was intended for him. He withdrew, silence enveloping the tent, only the pounding in her ears to keep her company.

Even if Elyse could not cry when hearing Rhaegar's singing, she could cry over him for a different reason. Hot, bitter tears burned in the corners of her ears, dripping down her face as she stood there, staring at the exit. She hated him. Loathed him more than anyone else in Westeros. His position in the Seven Kingdoms as the Crown Prince shielding him from the errors of his ways. He saw nothing wrong with what he had done, but it would haunt Elyse each time she encountered him and worst of all, she had to pretend it never happened. To the world, she was a maiden.

"Lady Elyse," Ned's voice came from the entrance.

"Uh... Just a moment," her voice cracked as she rushed around, trying to find a piece of cloth to blot the tears from her face. He seemed to have misheard her, entering the tent as she was opening her chest, fingers shaking from her overwhelmed emotions. Caught red handed, the tears began to leak out, much to her own frustration.

Eddard Stark froze at the entrance, gazing intently at her, his face open with his confusion. His countenance shifted and he reached into his cloak and into the breast of his doublet before approaching her. He offered a silver handkerchief. "I hope those tears are not because of me," he said, his voice low and concerned.

 _I don't deserve such kindness,_ Elyse thought, trying to choke back the tears as she took the cloth. She forced a smile, tasting the salt of her tears. "No. No, please don't think that," she pleaded, wiping her eyes and blotting her nose delicately.

"Then I presume it was Prince Rhaegar?"

The forced smile was gone and Elyse felt cold despite the warmth of her cloak. Eddard must have seen him exiting the tent. What excuse could she offer? The prince had been in her tent alone with her and now she was crying. What was Eddard going to believe? "Yes," she managed eventually, her voice barely more than a whisper. 

"Are you in love with him?" Eddard asked.

Elyse barked a laugh, so cruel and frigid that Eddard's own eyes became icy. She pressed the cloth to her lips and contemplated. "No, I do not love him. He loves me... He fell in love with me during our time in King's Landing and I harbor some resentment for him. I became a bit overwhelmed on my own. I'm sorry I look like such a mess... My eyes are going to be all red and puffy for the feast-" a pitiful chuckle passed against the handkerchief, which she noticed was embroidered with a poorly made wolf. 

"The tourney is but ten days, afterward the prince cannot bother you. He should not be bothering you, considering that he is married," Ned pointed out, his features drawn, if not slightly irritated by discovering what had happened. 

"Royalty does as royalty wants," Elyse shrugged. "And the Dragons are quite particular about getting what they want."

"At what cost?" Eddard said. "At affronting the North and East? At affronting Dorne?" a frustrated sigh escaped his lips, hinting that Elyse had already had a profound effect on the Stark during their first day together. "You have my word as a Stark that you will not be bothered by the prince. I can have your tent moved to the Stark encampment and have guards posted-"

"That seems a bit inconvenient-" Elyse protested.

"If he is making you upset, it is not inconvenient. My father will agree. As we are betrothed, it is not unacceptable that you move your quarters amongst the Starks. If you'd prefer, I could see if Lyanna will share her tent with you this evening. When you are amongst us, the prince will have no ability to slip around unnoticed and he will have to offer an excuse for seeing you... Bloody hell, we've got dinner with the prince tomorrow evening too..."

Cursing sounded forlorn on Eddard's tongue, but it made her smile. "I can feign illness," she told him. "Heat stroke or sun poisoning. Depends on how I feel tomorrow."

Eddard nodded in agreement, finally seeing her for the first time. His attention had been rapt on her distress rather than her attire. "Take the time you need."

"I'm fine. I'll... have this cleaned for you," she held up the handkerchief. "Who made this for you?"

"Lyanna did... Could you tell by the wolf?" he grinned as she brought it between the both of them.

"I think it's charming. I'm also poor at needlepoint, so I doubt my own attempt would be much better," she sniffed, the change in subject helping to curb her emotions.

"Then you did not have a hand in the embroidery on your gown?"

"Heavens no!" she admitted, a smile broadening on her face.

"A shame, though I don't expect that you having sewn it would make a difference in how much it suits you. I am a fortunate man."

Elyse snorted in spite of herself, blotting her eyes once again to keep tears from leaking out again. Who would have thought that quiet Eddard Stark was tactful enough to set up a joke like that and compliment her at the same time? Her cheeks flushed and she poised a smile at him, an earnest one. "Not fortunate just yet. We're only betrothed."

"Hm."

"Hm?" Elyse pressed. "Hm, is all you have in response?"

Eddard just gazed at her.

"No argument, no disagreement, no disdain? Or perhaps the 'hm' was in disdain, I can't quite tell-" she speculated.

"You're right," he said finally. "I don't think I can marry a lady who isn't capable enough at needlepoint."

Elyse stared openly, flabbergasted by his solemn response, unable to tell if he was being serious. But as she openly contemplated this, Ned broke a smile and her heart swelled, a playful frown planting itself on her lips. "I thought you were serious for a moment!"

"No, not quite yet," Eddard admitted with a coy look. "But there's no need for you to be so cynical. I know of at least one person who will be jealous that I am attending the feast with Lady Arryn."

"Someone I'd rather not spend time thinking about," Elyse groaned. "I care naught of what he thinks. Remember that. _I do not care._ Be it now or when he becomes king, I do not care," she insisted sternly.

"I believe you," Eddard placated gently. "Until now, you have given me no reason to distrust you. Nor did you try and hide your encounter with the prince."

"How would I have even done that?" she asked him lamely. "You saw him exit my tent."

"I saw him leaving the Tyrell encampment. I did not see him leave your tent."

Elyse's jaw dropped, it took her a moment to realize how stupid she must have looked. Snapping it back up, she tried to appear as dignified as possible, but she had underestimated Eddard. Blinded by Olenna's talking down of the Northerners, she didn't think that Eddard would be clever enough to trick her into revealing more information. 

"Well, well Lord Stark, you've quite surprised me and caught me off guard," she commended, regaining her composure. "Perhaps the betrothal _shall_ result in a wedding."

"Empty words from a lady who broke off a betrothal after 15 years," Ned brushed aside. "But... I shall hold you up to that expectation."

A giggle bubbled from the back of her throat, a true laugh that hadn't graced Elyse in a while. She covered her mouth again from the outburst, but her expectations were subverted once again. In underestimating Ned, she had opened herself up to being rather impressed and she felt slightly terrible that she had thought him so stupid. Perhaps he was still foolish, but he seemed capable of good conversation if he were invested in it. 

"I think I am well enough to attend the feast. I'd hate to show up too late," Elyse conceded, taking Eddard's arm. She drew up alongside him, unbothered by his proximity. In the past, she had been irritated and impatient with other men, finding that they tried too hard to impress her or gave backhanded compliments. There was always something slightly off putting, be it the man would drag on incessantly with accomplishments, posturing, claiming they were the best at fighting, or just the blathering that circled round to nowhere. Entertaining men such as that was exhausting. She had to plaster on a smile and pretend to be engaged, to be enjoying the horseshit that came out of their mouths, to pretend that she _really_ cared... 

But that conversation didn't exist here.

"Do you really think it's going to be that engaging?" Eddard inquired, arching a brow at her.

"No," she chuckled. "I'd much rather go riding or enjoy the weather. But alas, we aren't afforded the luxury..."

"Eventually," Eddard promised. "Not here, but once we get to Winterfell. I expect you'll want to see the Wolfswood."

"Expect? Just after a day and you're gleaning my wishes," she smiled, placing a hand on his arm. The movement was natural, unforced and comfortable. Maybe it was just her own yearning for companionship that wasn't one sided or superficial, but Elyse had experienced little discomfort thus far with Ned.

 _Honeymoon phase, time will tell how patient he can really be,_ Elyse reminded herself, trying to still her hopefulness. Yet, she couldn't help but smile at him, brushing aside the foul memories and upset she had been experiencing just moments before his arrival. A foundation, a rock to cling to in an ocean filled with sharks.

"You've been quite plain, unless you're not usually this blunt."

"There is a difference between being blunt and expressing one's desires candidly. You can do one and disguise the other," she pointed out.

They left the tent, others milling around as they trailed toward Harrenhal. Impressive, imposing, and broken, the story the castle possessed within its stone walls made Elyse curious. She had read everything she could about the formidable fortress before the tourney, wondering why the malformed towers hadn't been deconstructed and rebuilt. Now, she understood why. Her idea of towers were not the goliath monoliths spiraling above her. They were ten times as wide as she had presumed and the stone had literally been melted by dragonfire. Twisted up toward the sky, there was no way to safely break down the misshapen stone, especially so high above the ground.

A chill traveled down her back, raking her spine with icy nails. The gargoyle sentinels glared down at them, their hideous faces curled between snarls and grimaces. Even the rising moon was blotted out by the spires, her lights cutting between the pillars and casting strong shadows against the grey gargoyles. Music wafted toward them, a queer sound in a castle that had seen such strife and remained untouched for so many years. Few areas had been fully prepared, but the Hall of the Hundred Hearths was basking in a warmth that radiated into the yard, outlandish against the stark gloominess the castle seethed. 

Colorful blue and gold garlands twisted above, the dozens of hearth roaring. There were not quite a hundred, but the embellishment had the desired effect, as no one would count the innumerable amount of hearths with so many people collected within. Long tables had been arranged with centerpieces made of spring flowers including daffodils, tulips, and ruscus branches. Candles sat in their own trenchers, collecting wax which dripped down the long stems, and pooled away from the fragile arrangements.

The decadence for each table varied on which house was sitting there. Place settings became more ornate, jewel encrusted, and gilded the richer the family. Whether Lord Whent had provided these or simple, the noble house had brought these settings to flaunt, Elyse did not care to know.

Glad that Eddard knew where he was going, they lanced between the tables, leaving behind the familiar faces of the south until they were amongst darkly garbed attendants. Fur hemmed cloaks, muted boiled leather, the lack of exuberance or absurd displays of wealth... well, nearly. The merman of the Manderlys was emblazoned on teal doublets and they drank from silver chalices dotted with pearls. Lord Manderly was not considerably older than her or Eddard, but he was considerably wider. Blonde hair plastered to his head, thin and pale, his rotund cheeks flushed from his alcohol.

They continued, passing the winter sun of the Karstarks before denoting the Warden of the North's table. The Starks were not too different from when Elyse had met them earlier in the day. Perhaps their finery was a bit more polished, but the prior theme had never left. The doublets were muted, neutral colors, and fur rimmed the necks of their cloaks. Modest settings, nondescript and mostly made of wood, sat before them, Rickard Stark's the only one with a differing chalice of iron.

"Is that the cloak?" Lyanna asked excitedly, eyes pinned to the black fur around Elyse's shoulders. 

"Yes, would you like to feel it?" Elyse responded, taking a seat beside Lyanna. Brandon had yet to arrive, leaving just the two youngest Starks and their father at the table.

"It's much more coarse than I thought it would be," Lyanna commented, the fur between her fingers. 

"They're not giant, fluffy kittens," Elyse reminded her with a grin.

Lyanna snorted and dropped the cloak. "I've never seen one. They're pretty illusive, even in the North."

"Few have and I'd be happy not to lay eyes on another. This encounter was already close enough as it was." She gazed at Lyanna, whose pale eyes were luminous and bright against her fair, milky skin. She wore a gown of such pale blue it nearly looked grey, the embroidery fine and beautiful with winter roses and wolves chasing the hem. The girl was a lovely thing and Elyse knew that given a few more years, Lyanna would likely rival her own appearance. Somehow, she didn't mind.

Ned was down the table, leaning over his father, whispering into his ear, no doubt discussing the encounter earlier. Drawing her attention away from that, she took note of Brandon Stark approaching with a young lady on his arm. Her hair was a vivid auburn, burning in the candle light that bathed the hall. Of a similar age to Lyanna (maybe a year or two older), the girl had river blue, almond shaped eyes and elegant, high cheekbones. Her lips were a rich rosy pink, her complexion near as pale as Lyanna's. Donning the river colors of House Tully, Catelyn's hair appeared vividly red against the dark blue tiretaine, most of the details of the embroidery lost in the deep color of the gown. 

Brandon bristled with pride, plainly happy to display the youthful beauty beside him. Maybe to him it was a competition between him and Ned, but Elyse was a handful of years older than Catelyn, so she could not see what the point was. However, this was not the first time she had experienced men trying to flaunt the beauty of the lady they had with them. Mace had done it often before they broke off their engagement.

"She's not much like us," Lyanna had leaned toward Elyse to whisper in her ear. Her breath tickled Elyse and smelled strongly of wine. "Too proper."

Elyse tried to stifle a laugh, not because it was funny that Catelyn was proper, but because Lyanna had already labeled Elyse as not 'too proper'. Yet, this small moment between her and the Stark girl caught Tully's attention, her eyes sharpening. _Ah, she's gotten the wrong idea..._ Elyse realized immediately. It had only been a short while that she and Ned had been engaged, but the stepping of toes became blatant as Lyanna settled back in her seat and Brandon turned to introduce his betrothed.

"You know my sister, Lyanna, but beside her is Eddard betrothed, Lady Elyse Arryn," Brandon introduced, gesturing to the two females, gazing back at Catelyn.

Catelyn managed a pretty curtsy, raising her eyes, trying to disguise her suspicion. Albeit poorly as Elyse saw the dubiety, amused that the Tully was so poor at masking her emotions. The talent was more common in the southern women who needed to utilize their emotional tact to manipulate others and disguise their ambitions. "A pleasure to meet you, Lady Elyse. I am sorry that your prior betrothal crumbled considering how long you spent in Highgarden. You must be disappointed to move away."

Taken aback by Catelyn's brazen greeting, Elyse unfurled a guileless smile, portraying the picture of endearity. "Oh, yes, I am quite disappointed to leave behind the house I consider now as family, but with the end of winter drawing near, I think it brings forth a wind of change. I am excited to begin my newest chapter with the Starks. I have little doubt you also feel the same beside Lord Brandon."

Catelyn balked momentarily, disengaged by the unbothered smile that Elyse has polished at her. 

_Inexperienced, summer girl... Know when to pick your fights. Cling to your wounded pride and just sit down. You're not more clever than me,_ Elyse thought, waiting to see if Catelyn would make another jab, perhaps this time it would be on Elyse's age as she was a bit older than most ladies who married. The circumstances were not ideal, but Eddard wasn't younger than her. In fact, the lack of an age gap made their budding relationship more natural and relaxed.

"Of course, I only thought that perhaps you'd miss the companions and relationships you established in the Reach," Catelyn inclined, covering her blunder with a smile. 

"I will, but I shall create new ones wherever I move," she retorted with a light shrug. 

Catelyn smiled, but moved down the table with Brandon who was to be seated beside his father. The moment the other girl was out of earshot, Lyanna leaned back in, her luminous eyes bright with mirth and delight. "She tried to belittle you," she pointed out.

"She must have believed that we were talking about her as she approached. You did lean toward me," Elyse reminded her.

"Well, we were..."

"You were and I got dragged into your antics."

"And now look, she dislikes both of us. Honestly, she would have sooner or later once she discovers that you practice archery or love hunting or... She made fun of your age too," Lyanna pieced together, frowning. "I wish I could be getting married at your age. In just a couple of years I'm supposed to marry Ned's oaf of a friend."

"Ah, the tall one who is prone to giving unwarranted hugs?" she deduced.

Lyanna's jaw dropped. "He did not!" she whispered fiercely.

"He did," Elyse confirmed. 

"I loathe the day I'm to marry him. He tells everyone how infatuated he is with me, but he sees only skin deep... You're lucky with Ned. He's a good man. Wish I could say the same of my betrothed."

"I don't think he seemed... bad," Elyse considered. "Earnest, yes, but a little oafish, I certainly agree. I doubt he's been told 'no' very often, but you can always temper a man. If he says he loves you, then he's likely willing to change for you."

Lyanna remained unconvinced as they pawed over the topic of Robert Baratheon. Their conversation carried deep into dinner, to the point that they'd ignored much of what was going on behind them. Lord Whent announced the start of the tourney feast, gesturing to his young daughter (whom he proclaimed the most beautiful) who the tourney was honoring. Many lords held tourneys in the honor of their children, but such an excessive display for a simple birthday brought many eyes down upon Lord Whent, including Elyse's. Someone else was funding this. 

There had been rumors about the king's declining health, which Elyse had learned from Olenna who still had eyes in King's Landing. Aerys was beginning to be less predictable, making decisions based on his whim or sudden outbursts, rather than taking advice from advisors or weighing his options for a moment. If the king's decline was the reason a shadow host had put together this extravagant gathering, Rhaegar's promise to right things between them might have more substance. If he planned to unseat his father, was it possible he also planned on dumping Princess Elia along with Dorne?

Elyse's stomach twisted at the idea, hoping that she was married long before that. She had enough of the south and was eager to find solace and peace in the northern kingdoms. 

"Would you honor me with a dance?" Ned had been listening politely, letting the two women bond. The music had only strengthened over the course of the feast and now that the meal had ended, dancing had begun. Hidden among the throng of Northerners, she had escaped much attention until now. She could hear Olenna's voice in the back of her head, reminding her that the moment her feet touched the floor, they were unlikely to leave it in a long while.

But when she looked at Ned, his open palm, and earnest request... She couldn't help but smile. Accepting his hand, he pulled her up from her seat and between the tables toward the floor.

  
  


* * *

_**Faceclaims** _

_**Catelyn Tully - Adele Siniak** _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I have manipulated the ages of multiple characters that the story arc revolves around. Eddard and Robert were originally 18 at the Tourney of Harrenhal (just for personal choices because I feel weird writing sexual scenes between teenagers). I have aged them up to 23. Elyse has been aged up to 21. Subsequently, to line up ages, Brandon is now 26 and Rhaegar 27. There might still be a few year discrepancies from CH 1 - 3, but I'll look back and fix them. Otherwise, the other characters retain their normal ages.
> 
> Additionally, I've altered the timeline slightly in that Brandon is engaged to Catelyn now; 281. Also, Baelish has yet to challenge Brandon to a duel just yet.


	5. Eddard III

The raucous uproar in the hall was deafening. Between the loud music and the banter between hundreds of nobles, Ned could barely hear the blood pounding in his own ears. Lyanna latched onto Elyse like a tick. There had been few friends in her life of the same gender that had been able to relate to her and Lyanna felt an instant kinship with Elyse. Not wanting to break up the moment between the girls at dinner, Eddard focused on his cups and what had occurred through the day. Elyse didn't know, but Lyanna had chased down a few young men with a commandeered sword as they bullied a noble named Howland Reed. He met Howland after taking a walk with Robert and happened upon Lyanna as she huffed and puffed. 

Yet, it was what happened later that had put Ned on the edge before picking up Elyse for the feast. A knight had their revenge on the bullies, possessing a shield with a laughing heart tree. Much to his own chagrin, he knew the mysterious face behind the helmet and nigh wanted to ring his sister's neck for being so reckless. What if she had lost? What if she had gotten hurt? Either way, if his father discovered that Lyanna was this mystery knight, both he and Benjen would be on the chopping block. It was Benjen that had given her the oversized armor, unable to refuse his sister.

He wondered if he couldn't control his sister, how he would control his wife to be. Deep down, Ned didn't want to control Lyanna. The fire and freedom she approached life in was something that Ned envied himself, wishing that he also possessed such determination to carve his own path. He knew that such exuberance was also a curse, as it put both Lyanna and Brandon in positions that could have been avoided by gathering logic and thoughts before reacting to certain scenarios. 

With the close of dinner, most continued to enjoy their drinks, conversation growing louder and men more drunk. Ned's own eyes trailed toward the center of the hall where tables had been moved aside to provide ample space to dance. By this point, the music had shifted from bawdy to sweet and bright, enough to keep a comfortable dance pace. He wasn't much of a dancer, though he knew how to keep himself from stepping on toes. The sudden memory of Elyse's tear streaked face compelled him. As Robert had said, he had one of the most beautiful women in Westeros with him and if Robert were closer, he'd be calling Ned a fool for not showing her off.

Yes, the other Northerners could see her, but she was hidden in a small pocket of familiar faces. He should dance with her before someone realized he was hiding the Arryn gem here... Before someone asked before him. Drawing in a breath, Ned pushed aside his own anxiety and leaned toward Elyse who was still enjoying the evening with Lyanna. 

Standing, he inclined toward Elyse, interrupting the tangent his sister had been on. "Would you honor me with a dance?" he extended his palm, a heat clinging to the back of his neck and ears. He wondered if she noticed the blush or if it was hidden, just like his nerves.

Elyse turned toward him, her vivid eyes considering him before she smiled at him. The marks of sorrow were all but gone and her worry about having red, puffy eyes, forgotten. Ned could see why Prince Rhaegar was still so enamored with her, as he felt himself compelled toward her. He tugged her to her feet once she placed her hand in his, guiding her between the tables to the dance floor.

The unsettling feeling of being watched by numerous sets of eyes consumed him. He did not know who was watching, only that they were. Was it just because Elyse was radiant in her grey and silver ensemble or because Ned was with her? Perhaps it was a combination of both, the palpable disdain radiating off of unmarried lordlings as he held her hand. Why the second son? Why the Stark? He'd only been given the luxury because he was a ward of Lord Arryn. 

Doubts piled on top of him, the thoughts heavy.

"Focus on me," Elyse whispered, having noticed that he was distracted. She was so petite, her waist slender between his fingers as he held her for the dance. "It doesn't matter what everyone else is thinking."

Ned's sour thoughts blew away like dust in the wind and he released the breath he had been holding. He held one small hand in his, wondering how she managed archery with such tiny fingers. "This is the first time I've been around the majority of the Seven Kingdoms."

"And would it be any different if I were not here?"

"I wouldn't feel disconcerted-"

"You are to be Lord of the Vale and Warden of the East. Don't let the petty opinions of others scratch at you. Even if they are thinking bitter thoughts, they can only think them and whisper them behind your back. When the time comes, they'll bite their tongues to impress you and garner your attention," Elyse told him sternly as he delicately spun her around. 

"You speak as if you have some expertise in this field."

The mischievous smirk his sister sometimes had returned, though Elyse's was slightly different. Only one side of her lips curved up, cocking a half-smile in his direction as she gazed up at him. "I may be a subject expert on this matter," she informed him airly. 

"Then you'll have to teach me," Ned smiled in spite of himself.

"I already have been. I warned you not to trust a pretty face and kind words... but you won't learn the entirety of these lessons in a night, or a fortnight, or even a year. It'll take time, because it requires unlearning the way you currently think about the motives of others," she pulled in close to him. "Everyone wants something, no one truly does anything for free."

He enjoyed her proximity, his heart fluttering slightly from the way her lashes hooded her brilliant blue irises. "And what is it you desire?"

"Now, if I told you, that would ruin the fun. After all, people with hidden motives are rarely so forthcoming," Elyse chuckled. "That will be your first assignment. Discover what it is I desire. To be fair, I'll tell you if you're correct."

"Do you... desire the Vale? To govern it on your own?"

"You're making speculations already?" she mused. "From henceforth, you have three guesses and I wouldn't waste them. It's much too early in our relationship for you to truly understand me and what I might desire. But no, as eager as I am to get to the Vale, I have no desire to 'rule' it. I do wish to help the people to the best of my ability, but I know it shall take time and relationship building with the noble houses that live throughout the Vale. I am not so disillusioned that I think I will automatically have their respect... although, seeing as you are familiar with them, that does help quite a bit."

"I didn't mean to insinuate that you were disillusioned. Only that if Lyanna were in a similar situation, she'd wish to take the seat of lord over her husband. You are the Arryn, not me, rightfully the Vale belongs in the hands of an Arryn."

"Be it I were a man, then I would agree, but alas I am not and here we are dancing together. It'd be rather embarrassing for you if I were a man and we were dancing. Unless..." she arched a brow at him devilishly.

"No, that would be embarrassing," he agreed, cheeks burning at her jest. He preferred women. And he found that he liked that Elyse was short and slender. She looked fragile, but beneath his fingers he could feel the stiffness of her curvature under her gown. There was no pillowy or soft exterior, even if her face could portray the masks a noble lady needed to wear. He could recall Robert's lewd descriptions of voluptuous women, but Elyse was like a brilliant hummingbird. He wondered what she looked like beneath the gown... And then scolded himself immediately for undressing his betrothed with his eyes, thinking himself no better than the onlookers who might be doing the same. 

Still, the thought returned, imagining her with her curls cascading all around her. It loomed in front of him, the possibility that would happen in the next year...

A tap on his shoulder indicated that someone wanted to step in. Ned was regretful to let Elyse go, but when he noticed it was Ser Barriston Selmy, he felt considerably less worried. With a tight smile, he traded Elyse's hand and gave her a long look. The young lady gave him a cheeky smile before graciously accepting her new partner. She knew that this was bound to happen and Ned had already claimed her for a few songs. This would be the closest any other man would be allowed to get to her and there were many who wanted that honor.

Instead of returning to his family's table, Ned sought out the nearby and loud table of Robert Baratheon. His friend had drunk quite a bit by this point, sloshing wine onto the table and putting out a candle in the process. 

"And then I told her, well if it's a good fuck you want, you'll have to come by tomorrow!" Robert finished the joke, with a new drinking companion who wore a coat of arms which was quartered of six: red lips strewn on a yellow field, yellow skulls strewn on a black field. "Ay, Ned, done dancing with your lovely betrothed. You did tell her I was sorry and didn't mean to offend her, dinnae?"

Ned took a seat and watched warily as Robert poured up a chalice for him. "No, I did not, perhaps when you're not in your cups you can apologize yourself."

"Aw shit. Put me in front of those big blue eyes and I might hug her again. How'd you lucked out. I was worried we'd have to convince some lady here to even dance with you, let alone entertain the idea that you'd have the Arryn eating out of your palm."

Ned took a sip of the wine and scrutinized Robert. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, the way she was looking at you Ned. I know what a woman wants when she looks at me like that."

By the Gods he's much stupider when he's drunk. Elyse just told me- but the epiphany came as he sat beside his best friend. She had warned him that faces could lie, especially pretty ones. He gazed back out, finding her silver dress amongst the colorful ensemble. Amongst the crowd she was smiling and laughing, as if she were enjoying herself. Was she? This was all posturing, ways to lure others in by her charming demeanor so that they might be useful later. Men like Robert would think she fancied them and be more willing to help her.

Silver tongued and fair faced, Elyse's coy smiles and demure, playful looks engaged those she entertained. That was not the Elyse he had just begun to know, it was the show she had to put on in front of the court. She had done the same in front of Prince Rhaegar when they had been approached in the morning. He knew now that Elyse was not fond of him.

The woman they want, but can never have.

"You hear me or are you already besotted with her?" Robert asked, narrowing his eyes at Ned suspiciously.

Ned chuckled harshly and raised his chalice. "I heard you. To Lord Whent's daughter and the tourney," he declared, toasting with the other drunken Stormland knights that he didn't know. They were eager to have more of an excuse to drink, especially when it wasn't on their tab and it flowed like water. While they chugged, he turned his grey eyes back to the floor, choking on his own sip as he saw the figure approaching to ask Ser Arthur Dayne to Elyse's hand to dance.

Rhaegar Targaryen had cleaned up before the feast from whence Ned had last seen him stalking through the Tyrell encampment. His hair had been preened and was loose, his doublet of the finest crimson brocade, dancing three headed silver dragons emblazoned in the material. Elyse appeared slightly ruffled from her exchange with the Dayne, her face contorting before she put on a darling smile and accepted the prince's invitation. Murmurs pooled around them and Ned could overhear them.

"This is the prince's first dance?"

"Why hasn't he asked Princess Elia to dance?"

But one drew his attention more than others. "It's the smirking whore of Highgarden he's asked for a dance," but it was not an adult who said this, but a young male, just on the cusp of manhood, who was probably around the same age as Benjen. Small for his age and a little sinewy, he captured the rapt attention of a few young ladies who weren't dancing, including one with auburn hair similar to Catelyn Tully's. The girl wasn't as pretty and some years younger, leading him to believe by the colors she wore, that she was Lysa Tully.

"Where'd you hear that name before?" the girl asked, staring up fondly at the boy.

"Lady Mina, apparently everything wasn't as wonderful as the Tyrells will have you believe. Lady Elyse was awful to Mace Tyrell, which is why the engagement was delayed and subsequently put off. From the way she smiles at everyone and from what I've heard, I think she's stayed in the good graces of others for an alternative reason," the boy suggested, arching a brow. 

"She does look like the type that would think she's better than everyone," the girl agreed, scrutinizing the dancing forms. 

"Go dance with her," Ned told Robert suddenly, remembering himself and drawing away from the conversation nearby.

"What?" Robert perked up, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"Go interrupt the prince and dance with Lady Arryn," Ned repeated, offering a bit of clarity.

"I thought she wasn't fond of me," Robert frowned.

She's more wary of Prince Rhaegar. I think she'll be glad to dance with you, Ned thought. "You can try your apology there," he urged, gazing back out to the floor where the two were disconcertingly close. 

"Ay, you're just a bit jealous of the prince, aren't you?" Robert gleaned, pointing a finger at him. "Don't you worry Ned, I've got your back covered." Upending the rest of the chalice into his mouth before he stood up, swaggering as he straightened his doublet out, and puffed onto the floor to meet the prince. 

Robert approached them and tapped the prince, a little too brusquely on the shoulder, but Rhaegar did not appear bothered. Maybe it was because the Baratheon towered over him and reeked of wine, but the prince ducked out of the way, lingering with Elyse for as long as he could before Robert took control. Ned could barely control a laugh, watching as Robert absolutely dwarfed his betrothed and tottered ungracefully. Rather than seem bothered by Robert, Elyse picked up conversation with him and took the lead of their steps.

"You're letting Robert dance with her?" Lyanna's voice crept up behind him, the peevish little imp hovering over his shoulder, having approached silently. 

Ned cursed under his breath and gazed at his sister. "He owed her an apology and thought this was the best time to do it," he offered, setting down his chalice and moving over on the bench so his sister could join him.

"I really like her Ned. I really do," Lyanna said, sitting on the bench backwards so she faced out. "She thinks Robert can change."

Now Ned wasn't entirely certain of that either, but he put on a face for Lyanna. "Under the right circumstances, I think he could. But that depends on you as well. The more you two get into fights, the less of a reason I think he'll see to changing."

"How's he supposed to know I'm upset unless I tell him?" Lyanna huffed.

"Tell him, don't scream it at him," Ned suggested.

"That's a tall order," Lyanna remarked, but settled back and gazed out onto the floor, nonplussed by Robert bumbling around with Elyse. "But if you think he'll really change..."

"Perhaps Elyse is convincing him," Ned gestured to the two. "Speaking of which, Elyse may need to stay with you this evening."

"Why?" Lyanna asked curiously, unaware of the situation.

"I can explain it another time, but for now just trust me."

"Very well, I don't mind having her stay in my quarters."

The evening continued and the dancing shifted to ballads as Elyse had predicted. Rather than returning to the Stark table, they all became comfortable amongst Robert's friends. Lyanna had put aside her disdain and sat with Robert, trying to reason with him in his drunken stupor. Elyse kept a vivid conversation with a knight named Ser Richard Lonmouth, who seemed to have known her when he was squiring underneath Rhaegar. When the crown prince took the floor, there was a hushed silence, most ladies leaning on the edge of their seats as he began his mournful ballad.

Lyanna had resolved to taking silent shots with Robert, keeping the table occupied in quiet intrigue. Still, Ned could observe Rhaegar's pining gazes toward them, lingering on Elyse as she ignored him and committed herself to the antics of the Storm Lord. When the ballad had ended, applause broke out, tears streaming down the faces of those moved by his beautiful tenor. What Ned noticed most was the face of the king, whose countenance was drawn and narrowed on his son. Why?

Bringing his eyes up to Lord Whent, whose table flanked the king's, Ned saw the man enjoying the splendor with bumbling pride. Yet, while many tables of wealthy nobles houses possessed even prettier settings, the Whents utilized ceramic plates and silver chalices. For someone throwing such a grandiose tourney in his daughter's honor, their table settings weren't even as nice as the Manderlys. 

*Did they not pay for all of this?* Ned realized, seeing beyond the minor details around them. 

The feast didn't really come to a close. Music may have halted, but wine still flowed freely and many chose to stay to continue their conversations. Curiosity rose in him, questioning whether there were other conversations ongoing and if the king's suspicious glare had more edge to it than he originally believed. Traveling in a pack, the Starks separated from the Storm landers to return to their encampment. Lyanna swagged, still labored from her contest with Robert. 

She sagged on Elyse's arm, much to Ned's chagrin. "And then I was telling him, well you'd better take another!"

"I know Lyanna, I was sitting right beside you," Elyse reminded her gently, helping hold the young lady up straight. 

"Right, but just... you know," Lyanna looked Elyse dead in the eye before bubbling out with raucous laughter.

"Right, darling, right..." Elyse pat her arm, easing her forward.

Finally, they had dragged Lyanna back to her tent without Rickard discovering his daughter we piss drunk. Without Eddard asking, Elyse helped his sister into bed and undid her boots before moving on to pull at the back laces of her dress. Not wishing to see his sister in her chemise, he turned around and waited for the Arryn to help Lyanna finish. A few minutes later, Elyse popped up beside him. 

"She's asleep," she informed him, gesturing back to his dozing sister, whose hair fanned around her in a dark halo. In this state, Lyanna looked more gentle than usual.

"I'm sorry you had to help, you shouldn't have to-" Ned sighed.

Elyse shook her head and smiled up at him. "She's going to be my sister soon. I know it would be a bit odd for you to undress and put her to bed, so I don't mind."

"It shouldn't be your responsibility."

"The world would be a much cruller place if people only did what they were 'responsible' for. I'll make certain she is alright tonight," Elyse promised before turning away to return to the bed. "Goodnight Eddard... Or is Ned acceptable? Your family calls you that."

Smiling to himself, he nodded. "What about you?"

"I don't have a pet name," Elyse admitted. 

"Ellie? Elle?"

"Whichever you prefer," she shrugged.

"Hm."

The lack of conversation seemed to frazzle Elyse, her smile waning in slight disdain. "Good night, Elle."


End file.
